Through The Ages
by Charlie019
Summary: Some things just can't be helped no matter how hard I tried to fix it. The wise would swims with the current while a fool swims against it but then again, I've never been known to be smart in the first place. C'est la vie. Sequel to 'Walking with Dragons'. [On Hiatus]
1. Prologue

**A.N: And we are back, the sequel to Walking with Dragons. If you hadn't read that, go check it out but if you already finished it... well, I don't think there's a need for me to explain now do I? **

**If you just want to just get on with reading this without reading the prequel to Through The Ages, well who am I to stop you? XD**

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**2nd Justinian, 30 Dragon, midday**

**Lothering**

Lothering. I thought as it came to sight, my mind mentally exhausted.

The trip here had not been kind.

I made the poor choice of staying for two more days in Denerim to let my wounds fully recover, and that two-day delay had screwed me over considerably.

First, the stablemaster who kept and looked after my horse was ill, and his assistant was nowhere to be found. So I had to wait till he recovered.

One-day delay.

Travelling down the West Road and pass Almarr, paying the toll, or road tax as I did, I found the road blocked because of a mudslide caused by the heavy rainfall that seemed to become increasingly frequent. So I had to backtrack, pay the toll again and go around.

Five-day delay.

Muddy roads. Had to slow down and eventually take a pit stop because the terrain's not horse friendly.

One-day.

Got lost because I'm no longer taking the Imperial Highway, had to stop and let my horse rest. Horse got lazy and refused to budge until it finished grazing every blade of grass around him. Managed to drag him away to a nearby village to ask for directions and repair my shoes. More rain.

Two days.

Bandits on the road I'm traversing. More detours.

By the time I reached Lothering it had been more than a month because I took the long route, not to mention the shit loads of detours I took because, bloody hell, non-imperial highway roads were confusing and annoying. Not to mention I suck at map reading.

A trip that's supposed to take roughly around a week dragged on to one month of frustration, staying in villages that I never knew they existed, roadside taverns, sleeping on bedrolls, wet bedrolls and muddy bedrolls. I spent half my time either cursing, scratching because I'm filthy or worried that I'll miss the Warden and end up bumping into the horde as they sack Lothering.

A trip that gave me a first hand illuminating lesson on eastern Ferelden geography, and how much my horse disliked me.

Sure, I've been on the road a couple times, but never for this long. Plus I'm a city boy, always had been. Spending long periods of time on the road, sleeping in bedrolls or in countryside inns just ain't me. All the filth, lices, lack of even the most mundane comfort,. Granted, cities weren't that great either, given the setting of Dragon Age but still, compared to the country, it's much better.

And now here I am, finally in Lothering. Covered in filth, mentally exhausted, dead tired and wanting nothing more than a warm bath and a soft bed to crash down on. Though inwardly I realised that the odds of that was slim.

At least I'm not going to miss the Warden since I got here just a day after Loghain marched past with his army.

Lothering.

Not really what I expected but here it was.

A bloody striking image of Rosdon and at the same time, not.

Rosdon was shadowed by the Wending Woods, occasionally threatened by whatever that lurks behind its foliage be it angry Dalish or a bear at least two times the size of an American grizzly.

Lothering was shadowed by the Imperial Highway and a small stream that divided the village into half.

Rosdon was a backwater village in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Amaranthine.

Lothering was the artery of the southern roads. Anyone travelling around down south would have to pass it at some point.

Rosdon was small, a village no one cared about.

Lothering was huge, a village that was practically a town without walls.

On better days, its inns would be filled with passing travellers, merchants and mercenaries stopping by to peddle or stock up before continuing their journey. Its markets beaming with goods all across Ferelden, be it apples freshly plucked from the Brecillian or herbs plucked from the untamed wilds south of Ostagar.

But it wasn't. Instead its inns were overcrowded with refugees who could afford to pay for a room, or pay for a spot on the floor. Its markets were stripped bare, long emptied by hungry villages and refugees who sold their valuables for something as simple as a sack of potatoes or by soldiers who took anything that could contribute to the 'war effort'.

I shook my head at the stupidity I'm seeing as I dismounted horse. These people were already pitching tents, resting at what little space they could find that wasn't occupied by another refugee or covered in human waste. Making themselves _comfortable_.

For people who left their homes to get away from the darkspawn, they were ridiculously stupid. They should've known by now that the darkspawn were relentless pursuers, and they should be continuing their journey north, not pitch tents!

The villagers were no better, either staring at the refugees with contempt in their eyes or… ignored them, trying to go on with their lives like nothing had ever happened.

I didn't get it.

These idiots saw the army march past, to the north.

They saw the stragglers of those who survived Ostagar stagger into the village in terrible shape, more dead than alive.

They saw the animals, birds, rabbits, squirrels, all of them, migrating, fleeing to the north.

And yet they stayed, refusing to yield, stubborn, complaining about the now defenseless village now that their liege lord had abandoned them. They whined about the refugees eating up space, eating their food, leeching off them. They pathetically tried to reinforce the defenses, reform the village militia with the aid of the Templars who stayed…

_Idiots. _

The urge to scream and yell at them for their stupidity was nearly unbearable. Or it could be that I'm just irritated. The trip didn't exactly put me in the best of moods.

At least some were smart, some packed up and left.

Some.

Oh, did I mention that the King is dead? No? Well, now you know.

Making sure my weapon is tightly secured across my back, I took my horse by the reins and started walking, off to find the damned Warden, whoever he or she may be. The crossbow I bought along for the trip however, I left it on the horse along with my bag.

In a set of scale armor, filthy scale armor fashioned from boiled leather with a horse trotting behind me, I stood out from the villagers. While I'm not the only non-Templar armed and armored guy in the village, it still draws attention. Personally I couldn't wait to get rid of it and put on some normal, clean clothes. After scrubbing myself raw and clean.

After a few moments spent asking about for directions in regards to where was the Dane's Refuge located, I made my way there.

I tethered my horse nearby and walked in, asking the guy who owned this establishment if there is a place for me to stay the night. He took one look at me, said something about me being filthy and that maybe I should go clean up by the stream first before finally telling me that there's no room left.

Funny, because compared to the refugees I'm probably not that bad in comparison. Shame about the rooms though. Really had been hoping that I'll get one.

Thanking the innkeeper for his time, I exited, only to see someone trying to steal my horse. The damn animal wasn't even resisting, just nibbling at what little grass there is to be found and ignoring the fact that its ownership was about to change.

Such loyalty.

At least he scrambled off pretty quickly when I confronted him, rather quickly too.

Sighing, horse in tow, I started heading towards the local Chantry, figuring that my odds of finding the Warden would be much higher if I met Leliana. It wasn't really hard to be honest, since the Chantry happened to be the largest, biggest and prettiest local structure that I could see. And only one with rose tinted windows and a crude sunburst symbol standing at the top.

There were a couple Templars near it around it, doing their best to keep the peace. One of them perked up when he noticed me approach. "Hey. You are going in the wrong direction pal."

"I know." I nodded. "Thanks for the warning though."

"Here to cause trouble or to help the refugees?" He eyed me with suspicion. Not that I could blame him, I am after all armed, armored and had a horse with me.

"Not the former, you have my word on that."

"If you say so. We got enough trouble here as it is and not enough people to help with that, so any help you can provide will be appreciated."

"I'll keep it in min- whoa there." The horse suddenly reared up and started moving, pulling me along as I tried to bring it back under control. "Easy, easy! Sorry ser Templar, just give me- Shit!"

The animal, unfortunately, was hell bent on making life as difficult as it could for me just like every other horse I dealt with before. It headed through the archway and into the Chantry courtyard. Being the one lacking the foresight and having the misfortune to be holding its reins, I found myself being dragged along as I tried to stop it. The Templar didn't follow, never mind offer to help. Could've sworn I heard him laughing beneath that helmet of his.

"Come on, come on now." I soothed, stroking and rubbing its neck as I tried to see where it's going. "'Excuse me, pardon me, horse going amok. Oh come on! I just gave you something to eat!" I groaned as the horse reached forward at a bush in an unhealthy shade of brown shade. "That doesn't even look fresh!"

The horse ignored me, neighing in protest at my resistance.

"Watch it!" Someone yelled as he moved out of the way.

"Sorry about that." Maybe I should've just walked, or hired a carriage.

"Whoa, there." Someone stepped up to the other side of the horse, her voiced laced with a rather heavy accent as she moved to help. I didn't know, and couldn't see what she was doing on the other side but she managed to calm my horse down. So now its no longer buckling and neighing, instead it pushed its muzzle into the newcomer, who giggled in response. "You should be more careful with this stead of yours, least of all someone gets hurt by this lovely animal."

"I'm… not very good with horses." I admitted, flushing slightly.

"Oh?" A curious tone as she helped me guide my horse to a corner. "Then what are you doing with such a fine mount?"

"Ease of travel, though in hindsight I probably should've just relied on my legs. Easier to control, doesn't eat and doesn't have a mind of its own." I pulled my knapsack off the back of the horse and threw it across my shoulder. "If you don't mind me asking, your accent… you don't sound Ferelden."

"The Maker accepts all who's willing to serve him." I looked around the horse and _ohshit Leliana._ "And you don't look Ferelden." She's on the other side of the horse, throwing me a smile when she saw me looking. "You can leave your horse here at the Chantry at the time being." She pointed at a small stable at the back.

There were three stalls. Two were empty, while the one on the left was occupied.

"Oh." Snapping myself out of trance as I tried not to freak out, I quickly made to look busy, moving to the stall on the right. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend earlier. And thanks."

She laughed softly and said its fine as I moved guided my horse into the stall. The horse neighed again, pulling away and repeatedly interfering with my efforts, much to my frustration.

"So what brings you down south during such times? If you are fleeing the darkspawn then I'm afraid you are heading in the wrong direction."

Figuring that since its Leliana I'm talking to, I decided that it couldn't hurt for her to know why am I here. "Had some business with the Grey Wardens. Was trying to sell them a golem control rod but then every last one of them went down south to deal with this darkspawn business. I followed, and then here I am."

I'm a little grateful that I'm facing away from her at the moment, since she's a bard and could possibly spot that I'm lying. Well, I'm not really lying, I just twisted the truth a little without changing too much of the facts.

"Have you heard about Ostagar then?"

"Who hasn't?" I snorted, now moving to remove its head collar. "Figured I'll wait around a little, see if any of them- gah!" The horse unexpectedly took a step forward and shoved its muzzle into my chest, pushing me down onto my ass, beside the feeding trough. The malodor of dried horse piss and shit quickly served as a great motivation for me to scurry out, crying out in disgust coughing and gagging. "Wretched beast!" I swore when I finally got my breath under control.

The horse looked back at me innocently, snorting as if snickering at me, looking proud.

"You shouldn't be that mean to your horse." The Orlesian archer laughed as she offered to help, something I readily accepted. Ten seconds later, she walked out of the stall, handing me the bridle. "Here." She looked down at her hands, "and your horse is filthy! When was the last time you actually scrubbed and cleaned your horse?"

Err…

"I don't exactly know how to do it." But my best estimate would be over four days ago, when I made a stop at some village. Of course, I didn't do it, but the stablemaster probably did right? I mean part of the job descriptions as a stablemaster was to look after the horses. Bloody hell, this would be much easier if Anna wasn't down from a bad stab wound and sepsis. "The one time I tried… he wasn't very happy about it."

"You really don't know much about horses do you?"

"No…" She shook her head at me in exasperation. "Can you… show me how to do it?" I asked sheepishly, feeling like an idiot.

She looked at me. "I'm a lay sister of the Chantry. What makes you think I know anything about it?"

… "You already seem to know more about horses than I ever did."

She thought about it for a while. "D'accord, alright." Leliana said. "On one condition."

I perked up, waiting for her to name it.

"I get to be there if you find the Grey Wardens."

Eh, easily done. Plus she was supposed to meet the Warden in the first place so no harm done.

"Simple enough."

"Oh, I never did introduce myself didn't I? Anyway, I'm Leliana." _Yeah, except I already know that. _

"Lee, err… traveller." I extended my hand for her to shake. Leliana looked down at my hand in amusement.

"Go clean up and get changed first. Then we'll talk more about it."

_Fair enough. I am kinda filthy after all._

"Alright." I nodded my head as I turned away, then stopped. "Err… where do I go for that?"

* * *

**A.N: My fellow hairless wookies. **

**Constructive criticism is always welcome.**


	2. Naming a Pet

_**A.N: Man, this date thing is starting to get confusing for me. Oh dear oh dear.**_

_**Another disclaimer: Leave me alone.**_

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**2nd Justinian, 30 Dragon, midday**

**Lothering**

Leliana said I could leave my things with her for safekeeping while I went to clean up.

I looked at her and instead passed her everything except for all my coin, golem control rod, last set of clean clothing and sword. And yes, I know that I could trust her because she's Leliana, but she definitely would get suspicious of me if gave her everything and acted too trusting as if I knew her or something. After all, what idiot would give all their stuff to a total stranger who they just met?

Last thing that I want was to come off as someone who knew much, much more than I let on.

When I returned, wearing some _clean _normal clothing and smelling much better than I had in the past couple days, if one disregards the smell of the river I had stuck to me. I was told by one of the attendants, or Chantry Sister, that Leliana went off to attend to some refugees. Thank goodness I didn't pass her all my stuff.

Still, I had to wait, so I went about for a short walk around the village and took a brief look at the refugee camp south of the village. Got back to see if Leliana had returned and instead had a stack of blankets dumped into my hands and was told to distribute it.

A little dumbstruck but at the same time, not wanting to seem like an ass, I did. Plus, saying no probably would get me on Leliana's bad side anyway.

When I got back, Leliana wasn't in her robes anymore, wearing some standard looking grey dress, holding a sloshing bucket in her hands. Made sense. Wouldn't do her much good if her Chantry robes got dirty wouldn't it? She quickly walked over and said, "Hold this," relieving herself of her load as she motioned for me to follow her out to the back where I last saw my horse.

"You look peachy." I quipped. The horse looked up from its nibbling of something on the dirt, cocking its head sideways. The near human like behavior exhibited by my mount unnerved me slightly.

Then again, this is Thedas. Weird stuff happens all the time, so I shouldn't be surprised.

Were horses even capable of near human levels of intelligence like mabari? Or it's just because I didn't have much experience around animals?

"Come closer, how are you going to learn if you are not even willing to get close to your own horse?"

Right, because I'm just having such terrific luck with horses so far. "Alright, if you insis- Oh! Ow! Oww! Shit! You bloody animal!" I yelped in pain when the beast reached forward and took a tuff of my hair in its mouth, dropping the bucket in favor of trying to push the horse away from me. "No, my hair is not- Gah you prick!"

Leliana giggled at my misfortune, ignoring my glower when I painfully struggled free, a few strands of my hair still in the horse's mouth which it promptly blown into my face.

"I'm going to cook you one of these days." I murmured, cringing in disgust as I wiped my face. The horse snorted, looking over at Leliana with what that could've been perceived as an innocent look. "Then I'll eat you."

"He's just trying for your attention because he feels neglected." Leliana helpfully explained with a smile.

"Oh?" I looked back at my mount. "What is it you want? A cookie for chewing on my head then spitting my hair back in my face? A pat on the neck?" I groused.

_Wretched beast. _

"A little grooming perhaps? Some of your attention?" She asked. "You haven't exactly been showing him much care and attention."

_Yeah… about that. Damn it._

"T'inquiètes." She smiled. "That is why we are here."

"I'm going to regret this soooo much."

"As to why you need to groom your hose instead of just washing, its not just to make your mount look magnificent and to clean its coat, but also because it promotes healthy emotional bonding between the rider and… Mon dieu, pay attention!"

"Sorry."

She muttered something in French, Orlesian before going back to where she was.

The horse snorted again and yanked its head aside when I got close, determined to make my life as hard as it could.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time dusk rolled over, I was both physically and mentally exhausted.

On the bright side, I now had a basic idea on how to remove loose hair from a horse, whisk dirt and hair off a horse, rinse a horse, remove excess water off a horse with a sweat scraper and how to comb its mane properly. And Leliana's a patient teacher. Kinda.

Probably because whenever she was voicing her displeasure she was doing so in Orlesian. Now I'm regretting that I did not take up the elective French classes back in the past.

"Does your horse have a name?"

_Hmm, come to think of it, I never really gave this guy one, or is it a female horse? _

I stared at the horse, who stared back at me with almost sharp, intelligent eyes. "Err…"

"You have a horse, but you have no idea how to look after one, wash it, clean it and you didn't give it a name." Leliana stated flatly. I had no replies for that. "You are just horrible."

I flushed slightly. "Yeah, about that…" To be fair though, she was totally right. I got a horse without being prepared for the responsibilities of taking care of one. Well technically, I had it for quite sometime but I just left it in a stable in Denerim where it was looked after by someone who knew how to take care of them.

She muttered something in Orlesian, looking as though on the verge of a facepalm. "You are just horrible."

That's why I'm not allowed to keep pets back home.

"So… any particular suggestions?"

Pursing her lips in thought, she circled the horse, tapping her chin as she stroked its coat with a finger. "You're a proud one aren't you?" The animal snorted in what that could be seemingly be seen as agreement, tapping its front left foot on the ground as it bent its head slightly.

_Proud eh? Well- oh wait._

Having just remembered Leliana's naming habits, especially what she named her pet nug if the Warden gave her one, I decided to cut in before she could come up with some odd name for my horse.

"Snickers." I blurted out and immediately felt like digging a grave for myself. Of all the names that came across my mind I just had to choose _that_. I just fucking named my horse after a chocolate brand name. Way to go Lee. "On second thought…"

"No no, it's a fine name actually." She smiled at me, stroking the horse's neck, which made a noise of agreement. "See, even the horse agrees, non?"

"But…"

"Aww, who's the good boy? Yes you are."

… _it's a horse, not a puppy…_

"The horse seems to agree with anything that annoys me." I grunted unhappily, bending down to pick up the near empty bucket and avoiding the small puddle of water nearby – the leftovers of my 'How to take care of a horse 101' lesson – casually dumping a brush into it. It bumped its head into me and tried to bite my hair again, though I had the foresight to avoid it this time. "See? Stop being so intelligent, you are not a mabari, you aren't even supposed to be this intelligent."

"That's no way to speak to your horse." Leliana admonished me.

"It's said that animals tend to react negatively to evil people. I'm not evil. I have not yet kicked any puppies in five days."

"There's still tomorrow." The bard fired back, drawing a small chuckle from me. She gave one last pat on the horse before walking off to join me as I made my way away from the place. "So I'm just curious, of all names why Snickers?"

"Well…" _Because that is what it seems to be doing every time it manages to frustrate me. Before I also realized that it's also a chocolate brand name. _

"It's a cute name." _Goddamnit._

I quickly moved to change the topic at hand. "So pardon me for asking but considering that the Grey Wardens have been branded traitors, you seem awfully quick to be willing to help me." I said. "Should I expect to be arrested and convicted of treason anytime soon?"

"No no, don't worry about that. I'm interested to meet the Grey Wardens too."

I already knew why, but I decided to ask anyway. "Why's that I wonder?"

"The Maker told me to."

I made the point looking a little concerned. "The Maker told you to…"

She proceed to go explain herself, though I wasn't really paying much attention since I already heard it a couple times. Until I heard her get to the rose part.

"That explains why my horse wants to eat that yellowed bush earlier." I noted in a dry tone. "The Maker blessed it with a rose."

"_Snickers._" She corrected."You can't keep calling him horse when you already named him."

"Snickers," I drawled. "Is apparently a blasphemer. He tried to eat the Maker's rose, so there's probably a demon in him." I gasped, an impish grin on my face. "My horse is possessed!"

"Don't be silly." She slapped me on the arm. "Wait here." Pushing the large church gates open, she entered the Chantry, emerging a minute later with my stuff. "Here you go, we'll continue tomorrow during sundown."

"Alright…" I took a brief look to make sure that everything was still there and nothing was missing before coming to an important realization. "Where do I spend the…" The door was closed in my face before I could finish. "night…"

Shit.

I looked about at the misery that was Lothering.

Local taverns were all filled to capacity, people were literally sleeping in the streets damn it and I really didn't want to spend the night out in the open. Half my things would probably get stolen if I did that.

Could pitch my tent amongst the refugees but... I rather not. Some of them could be carriers of the Blight disease.

There's probably some empty houses around the borders of the village, but no way in hell I'm spending the night in them. Too secluded.

Pay someone in exchange for a night in their house?

The owner may or may not be a thief.

Goddamnit I'm too paranoid for my own good.

Grinding my teeth together in resigned frustration, I eyed the roofs.

Sleep didn't come easy that night.

_**~888888~**_

"Lee?" Leliana called up to me, a hint of bemusement in her tone. "What are you doing on a _roof_?"

Distantly, a rooster was crowing to the rising sun. In a week or two when the village eventually gets flattened, it would be a dead rooster, and no longer capable of making mornings miserable by waking people up right as the first rays of light peaked over the horizon. Sometimes earlier.

I resisted the urge to roll onto my side. Sleeping on a thatched roof was not just incredibly filthy and unhygienic, but at the same time unsafe. These were designed to keep out the elements, not as a spot for someone to sleep on.

Never again.

"Sleeping." I murmured, raking my fingers through my hair.

"On a roof?"

"No more rooms in the tavern."

"Why didn't you tell me anything? I could've done something about that."

I shrugged tiredly. "The Chantry seemed like it got enough problem on their hands already." I rolled up my bedroll, then hitting my back once with a fist in a futile attempt to relive the crick in it. "Though now that I think about it, I probably should've."

"How noble of you." She teased me, readjusting the small satchel jiggling with vials of poultices and a few rolls of bandages. More stuff for the refugee camp I presumed.

"Yeah yeah…" I looked over the edge and at the stack of crates I used to lift myself up only to find them missing. At some point in the middle of the night while I was having an uncomfortable time sleeping, someone had removed the crates. "Shit."

"You can't get down?"

"What? No, I can." I lied, checking out the distance from the roof to the ground. "Just… give me a second."

"What? You going to jump?"

Gathering my things and wrapping them all up in a big bundle, I rolled it off the roof, where it landed with a thud. I hoped the crossbow wasn't damaged by that. Quickly moving my legs over and dangling them off the sides, I pushed myself off, bending my knees just before I touched the ground.

"Oof! I'm okay, I'm okay." I waved her off when she came to check up on me, hopping slightly before recovering. That wasn't exactly a perfect landing, hell it actually hurts a little, but at least I didn't screw it up that badly considering I still had function in both my legs.

_On the not so bright side… there goes my last set of clean clothes._

_Wonder if there's a washerwoman around whom I could pay for her services…_

"We starting already? Wait, didn't you say sundown yesterday?"

"I did. I was just passing by when I saw you up there." She said, motioning at the bag she's carrying. "Good thing I woke you up, no? I don't really think the Palmers will be pleased with someone sleeping on their roof."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind, considering no one's home. Too bad they left the doors and windows locked or I would have a roof to sleep under." I mumbled out, pouring some water from my flask onto my face for a quick wash. Now slightly more awake than before, I also noticed that while she was still wearing robes, it looked different from the one I saw yesterday. A white robe with what that seemed like a red, sleeveless tabard over it, with a small lace by the waist to hold it still.

Probably one of the newer designs from the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux.

Her expression fell slightly. "Maker, lots of people are leaving these days."

I pointed in the direction of the refugee camp. "Not enough."

"We've tried to speed up the evacuations, but some just didn't want to leave, or couldn't leave, and its not just the refugees, but the locals too. Some lived here for generations, and unwilling to just abandon all that they've known."

Not surprising. In every disaster there would always be people who were too stubborn to leave all they've known behind, the strong 'independent' type who preferred and believed they could just stay settled and wait things out.

And without doubt, they would pay for their stubbornness with their lives.

"Then don't. Focus on those that can be saved." I simply said. One should never spend too much time on stubborn fools, and no I didn't learn that during my stay on Thedas. I learned that from internet trolls.

And some movies, books, television shows plus video games. The stubborn ones always end up causing the most trouble.

"I know, but all these people…" She sighed. "I'll meet you later."

I nodded as she left in the direction of the refugee camp, leaving me half wondering if it was something I said. This was so much easier when there was a monitor in front of me with a small indicator at the corner that'll let me know if she approved or disapproved of whatever that came out of my mouth.

Now fully awake, I headed towards the tavern for a small breakfast, before heading off to find and pay someone to do a quick wash of my clothes. Someone found me instead, a refugee, and offered me a really good rate.

I'm pretty sure that's not the only thing she was offering.

Instead, I just paid her extra for her to wash my things, with a promise of extra tips if she could get it finished before nightfall. The other not so subtle offer? No bloody way I'm taking that 'extra service', she probably had been doing it a couple times already in the past couple days just to scourge the coin she needed to feed herself.

Not to mention that it's most probably unhygienic. Eww.

Then I spent the rest of the time before lunch, and some of it after lunch, sitting in the tavern and occasionally, convincing people to get as far away as they can from Lothering.

And no, I still couldn't identify Hawke.

Shame. I had been hoping to convince him or her to leave early and perhaps a chance to save one of the Hawke siblings.

Though I doubt I could successfully convince the Hawkes to leave, since if I'm not wrong, Carver and maybe Hawke him/herself participated in the battle of Ostagar. And the Hawkes didn't seem to be one for leaving one of their own behind.

I could get up and start looking for them, but not with all the stuff I'm carrying. Not while carrying my armor, sword, crossbow, and a whole load of other stuff that I couldn't store away because there's no room in the tavern.

Besides, like I mentioned earlier, Lothering was _huge _village. Hawke's family was just another family hidden amongst the hundred other families that dwell here.

Oh, and there's Sten.

I stared at him sitting in the cage in the distance. And Sten… no, he didn't notice me at all. But man, Qunari? They are huge. Even while seated on the ground, his height nearly reached my chin level, a fist so big he could wrap his hand and fingers around my head easily.

And man, he looked imposing. For someone who's been locked in a cage without food and water for quite a prolonged period of time, I had to say that he did not look even remotely close to someone undergoing starvation.

"Leave me be human. I will not amuse you anymore than I have with the others."

_Stared too long and got too close. Oops._

"Sorry." I said instinctively. "I heard about what you've done."

"Evidently, or you wouldn't be staring at me so critically."

I had wanted to ask some questions, something I found surprisingly difficult. I already had the answers to the questions that I wanted to ask because of Bioware.

"Some Grey Wardens may have survived the battle in the south everyone's talking about." I settled in the end, not knowing what else to say.

"And?"

"Well-"

"I suggest you leave me to my fate."

"I could get you some food and water."

"Were you in my position, would you prolong your imprisonment?"

"…" _So much for that._

"Farewell then."

… _damn._

_What's next? Morrigan's going to fry me from inside out?_

I could use my general knowledge to try and convince him to eat something but I didn't want any more attention on me than necessary, so I left him there. Besides, its not like he's going to die or anything, the Warden's going to deal with him.

It didn't take long before I found myself back behind the Chantry by my horse. There's only so much one could do in Lothering. Maybe things would be different were there no darkspawn or refugees to content with.

"So…" I held up a carrot I bought, holding it up like a peace offering. The horse, no Snickers – god I hate that name -, immediately reached forward, teeth snapping as viciously as it could for a herbivore, eyes fixed on the treat. "Make no mistake, I still don't like you."

He, it, Snickers, whatever, snorted as if to say 'the feeling is mutual'.

"But until we part ways, which I have no idea how long it'll take, we are stuck together." I held forth the carrot carefully, half worried that my fingers could find themselves being chomped on at any moment. Make no mistake, horse bites hurt a lot. "So lets try to be civil to each other eh-Whoa shit!"

I drew my hand back right as the carrot disappeared within the oral confines of Snicker's mouth, the animal munching loudly on the vegetable as he stared back at me, an odd twinkle in its eye.

"What did I just say?" I snapped, shaking my hand at the close call. "Being civil means no biting damn it!"

The horse looked down at its hooves, then back up at me, teeth slightly bared.

"Yeah, yeah, I have more." I grumbled as I dug out another carrot, holding it before the horse. "So? What say you?"

Unsurprisingly, I received no reply.

"Sometimes I really wonder if you actually understand a damn thing I'm saying. Or maybe it's just me slowly dropping into insanity."

The second carrot vanished just as quickly as the first, though I didn't had the risk of nearly losing my fingers this time.

Distantly, I heard Leliana call out my name, exclaiming her surprise that I'm already here.

"Probably the latter." I muttered to no one in particular as I dumped my things beside the stables and faced the bard.

Maybe she'll teach me how to shave the damn animal this time.

"Lee!" She waved me over. I cocked my eyebrows when I noticed a spout of blood that stained her pristine white Chantry robes. "They are here!" She lowered her voice to a whisper just low enough for me to catch what she was saying. "The Wardens from Ostagar." The sides of her robe had a small tear in it and there's a faint bruise on her left cheek.

"They are here already?" I asked, surprised, in a good way. Sleeping on the ground on the road sounds much more appealing than spending another night on a roof.

Leliana nodded her head. "Party of three. Plus a mabari."

I thought back to that little deal we made, chucking softly to myself. _Well, guess I didn't have to find them for you after all._

"Well…" I turned back to my horse. "Guess we are going back on the road."

* * *

_**A.N: Constructive criticism is always welcome. And yes that white Chantry robe was the one from Inquisition. Figured I might as well start introducing them now and have it gradually take over the standard design over the years.**_

_**Next, the Warden. Finally.**_


	3. Warden

_**A.N: ... Nope. None for this time.  
**_

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**3rd Justinian, 30 Dragon**

**Lothering.**

"Hold still, hold still damn it!"

I ducked down, barely avoiding getting my hair caught in Snicker's snapping teeth as I tried to secure the girth of the saddle properly. Inwardly, I cursed myself for not having the foresight to see that I should've put on my riding gloves after I got everything else done.

The animal whined, trying to pull itself away as it stamped its rear right hoof down on the dirt. Like a child stamping their feet against the ground in some temper tantrum after being denied candy.

"Quit yer bitching." I said, rubbing away the sweat on my right hand as I held onto the saddle with my life. "You want me to be doing this all day until we both get split open by our bellies by the darkspawn when they arrive?"

The horse whined again, then made to take a chomp out of my hair.

"Lee! Hurry up."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I called back to Leliana, gritting my teeth as I tried to get things together, a task made all the more difficult by my trembling fingers. "Just… give me a moment."

Part of me was excited, thrilled at the idea of meeting _The_ Warden, while the other half was nervous, since the possibility of him or her being an utter psychopathic maniac wasn't exactly nonexistent. For all I know, the Warden might just simply stab me for the control rod.

Hell, it even felt a little terrifying, combined with a slight thrill of what I'm getting myself into.

"Relax." I heard her say. "If you start getting agitated, then he will too."

Brought back to the present, I just barely avoided losing more of my hair, groaning in annoyance. "Then tell him to stop trying to eat my hair!"

"What… Oh." She walked around the corner and saw me struggling, a small amused smile on her lips. "Here, I'll help."

"Thanks." I muttered, watching as she effortlessly secured the girth in a matter of seconds with slight jealousy. "So tell me about the Wardens."

"Well, there's two of them, accompanied by a mabari and… well, an apostate." She carefully worded out the apostate part, throwing a slight peak over her shoulder to gauge me for any reactions. Which she never got since illegal mages didn't bother me as much as compared to most other people on Thedas. "Bumped into them while I was in the inn, along with some of Loghain's men I believe."

I arched an eyebrow in her direction. "You… bumped into the Teryn's men? What did you do? Is that good or bad?"

She didn't answer, instead taking off in a small jog and forcing me to quickly drag my horse along or fall behind, stopping for a split second to cut open the side of her robes to give her legs extra mobility. Which also happened to give me quite an eyeful. Slender, blemished and smooth legs, slightly kissed by the sun and looking sharp in all the right angles…

Nope. Totally not ogling at all. I'm a gentleman.

… why hadn't she changed out of her robes into… I don't know, some leathers yet?

"So, when you said you met the Wardens, did you mention the weird me who's looking to do some odd business with them?" I made a show of scratching my chin thoughtfully as we zipped our way through the soon to be doomed village. Still loads of people here, and I've given up trying to talk as many people as I could into leaving.

If they decide to keep that stick up their collective stubborn foolish asses and think it'll keep them alive, their mistake, their loss. Not mine.

"I dropped a small mention when I introduced myself."

"So you… just met them? Did you go and find them, or bumped into them coincidentally?"

"I didn't. Some men working for Loghain found them and made a scene. I just stepped in."

"Stepped in?" I eyed the bloodstains on her Chantry robes. "Right…"

"Hurry up!"

"Tell that to my bloody horse."

"By Andras- Stop bickering with your mount!" She hissed at me, then stopped. I was just about to call her out for hurrying when she herself stopped when she told me to wait and climbed onto a cart parked near a house, then hopped onto the roof.

She jumped down moments later carrying a bag of her own and a longbow between her fingers along with a quiver full of arrows on her back. "Lets go."

"You don't have armor?"

She shot me a sly smile. "Are you asking me to change out of my robes right here in the middle of the village?"

My cheeks burned slightly. "Well… err…" Not trusting my brain to formulate the right response, I wisely kept quiet.

"They are in here obviously." She secured her backpack onto my horse. "I'll change the moment I get to a private place but for now, meet the Wardens."

"Why weren't you with them, or them with you when you came to me?"

"Remember that Qunari outside that village? Apparently, one of the Wardens decided to free him."

"You disapprove?"

"All deserves a chance for redemption…"

"I sense a 'but' coming."

She nodded. "He did butcher an entire family, and was found sitting amongst the bodies. Not even the children were spared." Her head lowered briefly, a somber look overtaking her features for a split second. "The little one used to come to me every morning, right after the rooster crowed, begging me for stories or cookies, and asking how to get the same hair color as mine."

I had no reply to that.

Leaving the village, we got to Sten's cage, the tiny prison now empty of its sole occupant and those responsible nowhere to be seen.

I panicked for a moment, thinking that they got tired of waiting and left because I took too long.

Not yet discouraged by the lack of the Warden's presence, Leliana grabbed my arm and dragged me along as she headed to the outlying homesteads closer to the Imperial Highway. Unfortunately for me, it ended with me being stretched on both ends by my arms, one tightly holding onto Snicker's reins while the other firmly in Leliana grasp.

We bumped into a farmer, face pale as sheet as he came barreling down from the opposite direction, screaming for help and some other incoherent stuff. I froze up, thinking it was darkspawn, ready to leap onto my horse and gallop away to safety.

I didn't come all the way down south to seek out the damned darkspawn. I came to make a damn delivery because I didn't want to risk pissing Flemeth off by tossing the rod she conveniently dumped onto my lap down to the bottom of the Waking Sea.

Hell, if I had my way, I'll make sure it sinks all the way down to the depths of the Amaranthine Ocean.

Then we found what made him ran away.

Clue: It wasn't darkspawn.

I remembered this part. A bunch of locals or refugees decided it would be a grand idea to try and cash in on the bounty laid on the Wardens' head. Their suicidal confidence and stupidity cost them their lives because there's no way to talk your way out of it.

Free exp and maybe some cheap loot left behind as the bodies magically decomposed into bones in record time.

Unfortunately, that's not the case here. It was a bloody mess, the result of what happened if one pits a bunch of green farmers against trained killers.

The first dead body I saw was slumped over a boulder, his nose crushed and rivers of blood just flowing out of his mouth where he was fatally stabbed.

The second lay on his back in the dirt, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at the sun as the cool Ferelden air chilled his intestines that seemed to have poured out of the massive cut in his torso. The one beside that body was impaled on his own pitchfork.

The next was missing nearly half his head, mostly the parts above his lower lip, like a decapitation that had gone terribly wrong. I didn't check where did the rest of his head was.

Two more were charred beyond recognition, stinking up the air with the stench of burnt flesh and sulfur.

Standing by the dead were the Wardens, Morrigan, the team pet mabari and Sten.

I gulped nervously, a little disturbed.

At least Alistair didn't look so comfortable about what he did. I hope.

Sten looked much bigger now that he's out of his cage, this time in a dark suit of plate armor, a massive claymore in one hand as he carried it about as if one would wave with a knife, dripping with the blood of the freshly slain.

_Plate armor? This early? What? _

The Warden was a dual wielder, a she, just now bent over and pulling her weapon of choice out of the chest of one of the fallen refugees before casually flicking some of the blood off the blade. Then she straightened, letting me catch sight of her sharp, elven ears.

Worse, the markings on her face. Dalish.

_Ah shit._

Alistair was the first to notice us. "Well… this is awkward."

_Right... _I looked down at his blood stained sword. _You don't say..._

The Dalish Warden spun around, her guard up until she noticed Leliana. "You again." Long, rust colered wavy hair tied up behind her head in a simple ponytail, the rest fell about her face in sweaty locks, stuck to her olive skinned cheeks. She was, looked young, too young, high cheekbones, thin brows and large elven eyes.

Hell, even with the armor, I would say she looked small, soft, though her eyes said otherwise. Dual piercing emerald orbs that I felt digging deep into me, assessing for a potential threat level like a predator.

One of the charred bodies gave a soft wheeze, air escaping from his blackened lips. The elf stopped briefly to stab him through the chest. "What?" She looked up and saw the looks on our faces. "They attacked us first, and there's no way that shem would survive that kind of injuries even with help."

I had to find myself agreeing to the last part. That dude was burnt beyond recognition, and even if he was back on Earth, I'm not even sure that he could be saved with our medical technology. Or maybe he could, walking away with massive scarring that can only be fixed through a major and expensive skin graft operation.

Suffice to say, as much as I loath to admit it, putting him out of his misery might not necessarily be a bad thing.

Still… _Damn._

"I…" Leliana started, only for the Warden to raise her still blood stained dagger and cut her off.

"Yes, I've heard you the first time round, and it appears you shems have horrible hearing. Guess we didn't leave quickly enough, since you managed to catch up. And you brought a stray along this time along with a mangy beast." She referred to me and my horse.

The bard didn't looked too fazed by the harsh words. Though I start getting a little worried because this probably meant that she turned away Leliana back at the inn when they first met. Not particularly a good sign. Though perfectly logical in hindsight to reject the help of those who proclaim to hear voices in their heads.

Leliana spoke up again, choosing her words more carefully this time. I found myself paying more attention this time because I never turned her down in my playthroughs and hence, this was a scene that I'm not familiar with. "I'll… be honest, when I first heard of the darkspawn, I felt something urging me to leave my sheltered life in the cloister and do something, anything."

"Really." The reply was heavily laced with sarcasm and skepticism.

"And then the dream-" I facepalmed. Just when she was finally making a fine case for herself. Dreams didn't exactly make for a convincing point of argument, unless one's a mage.

"Well, at least she sounds sincere, even though she's a little… strange, she's skilled. I vote for her to come along." Alistair suggested.

The Warden gave Alistair a look that seemed to suggest she thinks he's mad. Morrigan verbalized her thoughts. "And of course you would suggest we add more less than intelligent people into our group."

"Its common sense, since we need all the help we can get but then I don't suppose you'll know that considering you lived-"

"Do you two ever get tired of arguing?"

"All I'm saying is, there's just the four of us…"

The Warden's mabari barked in protest. I felt bad, standing here and eavesdropping.

"Five of us." Alistair corrected. "I'm just not sure how much we can achieve with just the five of us."

"Alistair, she's one archdemon short of the Blight, and anyone who can hear otherworldly voices in their head is someone we should probably stay _away_ from."

"Yes, but she's more 'Ooh! Pretty colors!' than 'I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!"

Leliana gave him a sharp look at that.

"And when her dreams tell her to cut our throats in our sleep?"

"What about him?" Alistair pointed at me.

"Oh no." I raised my hands and backed away. "No visions from me, nope."

Leliana nudged me in the side. "Tell them about what you told me."

I took a step forward, stopping when Morrigan, who had been quiet this whole time and taking us in while idly playing with her staff tapped it on the ground, a thin green veil of energy emitting from its tip. A clear warning for me to keep my distance. "I… err…" I reached behind me for the rod, other hand help up in a non threatening gesture before me. "Just so you know, I'm not reaching for anything sharp or dangerous."

"This is a waste of time. We should just leave them behind and move on." Morrigan interrupted with a disdainful scoff.

I pulled out the golem control rod. "Just how much do you know about the dwarven golems?"

The Warden blinked in confusion, the action contorting her Dalish markings and making them more prominent. A thick line that runs down the side of her head before branching off into three smaller ones that crisscrossed at the center of her forehead. Another one on her lower lip that goes straight down the chin and neck, her armor hiding the rest of the pattern from my eyes. "Durgen'len… what?"

I briefly tried to identify what pantheon that represented but quickly gave up. Been two years since I had a chance to touch upon the Dragon Age codex, and I couldn't find any books that mentioned it at all here on Thedas so far. "Think of a giant stone statue that moves and crushes whatever you tell it to crush. A darkspawn crushing weapon if you will."

"I've heard from somewhere that during the Rebellions Maric had a stone golem fighting for him once." Alistair joined in. "I don't suppose you mean that? What about it?"

"Even better." I held up the rod. "I have the rod that controls that said golem, have no use for it and I know where to find it. Was negotiating about the price with your Warden Commander when-"

"Wait." He quickly cut in. "You knew Duncan?"

"Depends on your definition of 'know'. For me it was just some correspondence through letters and arrangements for a meeting which never came to be because every last one of you went south." I raised an eyebrow inquisitively as I moved to ask a question that I already knew the answer to. "Why, did he survive Ostagar?"

He closed his eyes for a second before reopening then. "No, he didn't."

"So, what? You going to try selling it to us?" The Warden asked.

"That's the plan, then you'll never see me again."

"Another sleezy shem merchant. Wonderful."

She'll be great friends with Shianni. I could already see it.

"What kind of merchant dresses up like this?" I dryly pointed out. Merchants don't really travel alone toting swords and crossbows.

"Okay then." The Warden took a step forward towards me, making me realize that despite the fact that I'm taller, her weapons were still out and stained in blood. And she's visibly toying with them with her fingers, making the effort to make sure I notice that. "What makes you think we have the money to pay for it?"

…

Shit. I never actually thought of that, since my plan mostly comprises of getting rid of that rod. If I get some coin in the process, that's a bonus I'll happily accept.

"You could pay me after you saved the world?"

Behind the Warden, I could see Morrigan shaking her head, a hand moving to rub her temples.

Sten, who hadn't said a word so far, remained silent at the back of their group, stoically watching the proceedings.

"Hey, it's a stone golem." I tried to make my case. "The dwarves made them specially to kill darkspawn, and they are damn good at doing so too. Is that not worth a consideration?"

The Warden pursed her lips in thought as she toyed with the idea in her head. "Perhaps. But you're coming with us."

"Alright then-" My mind blanked out as her words finally hit me. "Wait, what?"

"You are coming with us. Just to make sure that I can deliver swift retribution if it turns out you are lying." She clarified, a self satisfied smirk on her face. "And if you are not… well, good for you."

_Aw shit._

"What?" I protested. "Just-"

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it shem."

"Wha… but…" _Come to think about it, Honnleath isn't very dangerous. Just a few darkspawn hanging around and a demon in the basement of one of the houses. Still, darkspawn is no laughing matter. Best is not to get involved in any of this business at all and just bury the rod in the dirt. But then Flemeth might not be happy if I just buried something she gave me, I mean, she gave it to me because she had something in mind right? _

_Right? _

"An'eth'ara shem." She snorted before I could collect a response. "Try not to be too useless."

Whaaaaat?

Alistair took one look at me. "Okay, now that you decided to include the not-merchant…" He placed extra emphasis on 'not-merchant'.

Again, whaaaaaat?

The Warden sighed, muttering something that I couldn't quite comprehend and walked away. "Whatever, fine. Don't bother and stay away from me when we set up camp."

_Ferelden is doomed. Definitely leaving for Nevarra now._

"So now we are picking up mad priests and shrewd merchants. Wonderful." Morrigan scoffed, shaking her head as she turned to follow the Warden. Sten, who hadn't said a single word this entire time did the same.

Alistair just gave us a look of half suspicion and one filled with unanswered questions.

The mabari walked up to my horse and bumped its head against Snicker's legs, then ran off to catch up with the Warden.

I turned to Leliana.

She looked back at me, smiling. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

I gave a short sigh of resignation, numbly moving to follow.

How in the bloody hell did my life become so bloody complicated?

* * *

_**A.N: And we are off. ****Uploaded this in a haste, so I didn't spend as much time as I should checking for mistakes. So a****s always, correct me if you notice any continuity or grammar discrepancies that I've seemed to have made and failed to notice. Or a lowered level of quality in my writings. I never say no to constructive criticism. **_

_**On the side note, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is coming out soon. So... I'll be rather busy. XD**_


	4. Crossbows and Javelins

_**A.N: Sorry about the delay, went back to the earlier chapters to do a little bit of fixing, plus I got a little bugged down by assignments. Sorry if I didn't manage to respond to all of my reviewers. That aside and being totally immersed in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. It is awesome, I highly recommend it. **_

_**Can't believe I actually found the time to actually squeeze this out but anyway…**_

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**3rd Justinian, 30 Dragon**

**Lothering Outskirts**

I'm in.

By that as in, as of right now, I am officially, in a sense and temporarily, part of the party.

Holy shit.

Now that the intense recruiting conversation from earlier was over, everything's just starting to hit me.

I'm walking with characters, who as far as I'm concerned a few years ago, fictional characters who used to be the creation from the mind of someone who had too much time on their hands.

Holy shit.

Truth to be told, I was a little worried being in the presence of Morrigan. I mean, her mother, did heavily imply that she was responsible for dropping me so far from home, so what if she recognised me? Thankfully, she made no signs of recognition so far. Flemeth kept her little witch girl in the dark maybe?

That aside, I found out why Sten had been wearing plate armor. It was the one that was confiscated by the authorities when he was taken in. Now that he's free, he simply got it back but damn, Qunari sure do equip their men good.

He didn't have any javelins with him though, the ones the Qunari love to throw in the second game. Unfortunate really, I had really hoped to see him throw one.

I came into Lothering riding on the back of a horse. Now I'm leaving it on foot. Didn't feel right to be riding on horseback when everyone else was walking, so instead I offered to use my horse to carry any extra baggage they had.

Trudging down the path, passing the outlying farms and houses, most of which were emptied, their inhabitants long gone to either foolishly seek safety within the village, believing it would be safer or left for the north. Some were evidently less fortunate. Broken down doors and dried bloodstains that clearly explained what's behind their disappearance, and the gruesome fate of those unfortunate souls.

An odd broken wagon laid abandoned, leaning against its side on its broken axel, its insides stained with blood. Hopefully whoever owned it got away alive but that's probably hoping too much. Shouldn't concern myself over it, starting a witch hunt or investigation would require time I don't have, despite my curiosity.

The occasional farm animals, chickens and gooses so far ignored us. Left behind and let out of their pens, coops, they feasted on the unattended, mostly barren crop fields, what little there is clean. Weren't many of them, most probably got slaughtered and cooked by the hungry and starving. No cows, pigs or goats. None left most likely, too big to escape the notice of those with empty bellies.

A body, human or elf, fresh. Laid motionless in a nearby shed, only the legs visible through the door. Didn't get close enough to find out. Nor did I want to.

At some point in the future, whatever suffering that wrought these lands would worsen tenfold. Corpses would litter the field, the ground beneath our feet darken with taint, the occasional 'spawn that would prowl about, hunting for survivors. Maybe the dead would attract demons too, then there would be the living dead in addition to darkspawn around these parts.

And to think I somehow got myself involved all because of some damn dwarven trinket dropped onto my lap in Highever. Had it really been more than a year since then?

I wondered how the darkspawn would look like, without the computer graphics and pixels, whether they would resemble their Origins or DA 2 counterparts. Ugly, that's without a doubt. Doubt they'll be too much of a trouble at this point until way later in the year when they finished reconsolidating their forces for a major offensive so I shouldn't have too much to worry about if we bump into them.

Still, should be cautious. A stray arrow could be all it takes to end my life.

… It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to get to Honnleath. Damn.

Though fortunately I happened to be carrying quite a few maps with me. Plenty of time to work out a route when we break for camp later at dusk.

"So... merchant eh?" I heard Alistair say, drawing out a sigh from me.

"I am not a merchant. And I'll make for a poor merchant if I ever was one."

"Oh I wouldn't know. Maybe you just need to put your heart into it." He smoothly replied, then turned to my horse, briefly examining it. "Interesting choice of mounts though, usually people use these breeds for farmwork and such, not for riding or travelling."

I stared back at him, stunned. "_What?_"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh." He said simply, offering me an apologetic shrug and a small grin. "Well, now you know. What did you say when you are getting a horse anyway? Anything specific?"

"I said I wanted a good horse." I muttered, half groaning. Well, that's another reason why I took so long to get to Lothering. "Guess I should've been _more_ specific."

"Oh yes indeed, while local forders are great mounts and all, strong, hardworking and obedient." Both Snickers and I ended up snorting when Alistair had said 'obedient'. "So when you ask for a good mount, its natural that they assumed that's what you are looking for. Unfortunately in this case, well, they just aren't built for endurance and stamina. A courser or a palfrey on the other hand, strong shoulders, powerful legs, great bone structure and resistant joints, with low set hooks and hard feet, that's what you'll want."

Snickers reared back, looking almost offended as it gave Alistair a shove with its snout. "Hey!"

So not only I got an annoying horse, I even got the wrong breed. A farm horse instead of a riding one. Awesome. "Well that's... good to know." I paused. "Son of a bitch... wait, how would you know that anyway?"

"Well..." He drawled out. "That's because I'm a horse myself, reincarnated as a human." His expression turned serious after that, his hands moving over to the hilt of his sword. "Darkspawn."

At that curt warning, everyone jumped into motion. Swords were unsheathed, bowstrings tested and staff readied, the stick glowing with unearthly powers as it gave me slight chills just from the sight of it. Me? I readied my crossbow, loading a steel bolt into the weapon as I raised it, ready to fire. Inwardly, I noticed that we were near the Imperial Highway.

_Ah... this part._

"I don't sense anything." The Warden frowned, but deciding to trust in the judgement her fellow, more experienced compatriot. Come to think about it, I've yet to catch her name yet.

"Ah... think you'll need to give it sometime." Alistair replied. "Up front, over the Highway.

I didn't have as much jitters as I had expected I would have, since I already knew about this encounter, and that we'll meet the two tagalong dwarves here after we killed the darkspawn. So in a sense, I was, in a way, already mentally prepared.

Bodahn and Sandal came barreling down the ramp that led to the Imperial Highway, yelling for help.

Well, Bodahn was yelling, not so sure about Sandal though. Creepy little twit.

I quickly moved further back along with the horse, ordering for Snickers to stay put before moving back up beside Leliana. For once, my horse complied.

Approximately ten seconds later, approximately a dozen darkspawn came into view.

They didn't look like much in the game, but to be fair, one could blame the graphics for that. So in my mind, I had pictured a darkspawn as a creature that somewhat resembles the Uruk-hai from Lord of the Rings. Tall, powerful and muscular with slight decay on their skin.

At this distance, my eyes made out a humanoid creature with mottled skin, crude plates of metal wielded together to form some kind of makeshift armor covered in dirt, blood and grime. There was also three of the smaller ones, dwarf sized genlocks with pointed ears and leather armor that looked on the verge of rotting off, comically ugly.

Some most held a single curved and poorly crafted looking sword that somewhat resembles a falchion. Two of the genlocks held bows.

The one in the lead raised the crudely forged sword it held, its edges dripping with the blood of fresh victims, letting out a guttural roar from its maw.

I recoiled slightly, caught in between disgust and revulsion. Oddly enough, nothing more. Probably would've felt fear too if they were much closer or had caught me by surprise.

Before they could even start barreling down the ramp, Morrigan shot a fireball in their direction.

It landed at the back of the pack, a small explosion of magically induced fire consumed the two darkspawn archers, turning them from blood-thirsty monsters into a moving, screaming and twitching torches. The others stumbled, flesh scorched by the heat, screeching in inhuman pain as their skin burned away.

I'm just happy I couldn't smell that. Burnt human flesh was bad enough, never mind darkspawn.

The sound of Leliana letting loose her arrow knocked me out of my revile, causing me to quickly snap up the crossbow and let a bolt loose.

Another darkspawn fell, interrupted mid roar by an arrow through its mouth.

My bolt clipped one of those creatures in the side of the head, taking off a small chunk of flesh and bone around its right eye socket. I didn't kill it though, unfortunately. It waved about for a bit, slightly blinded and screeching in pain..

Another darkspawn fell, courtesy of an arrow that punched through its chestplate like it was paper.

The first of the darkspawn got in melee range, and immediately got carved apart by Sten in a single, powerful stroke.

The second roared, blade swinging at the Warden. Then it froze, her dagger buried deep in its chest.

A third reeled back, hands clasped over its destroyed nose when Alistair slammed his shield into its face with bone crushing force, its weapon forgotten as it dropped onto the ground. Pivoting around, he parried a blow from a darkspawn that had tried to flank him, and then his sword darted out, stabbing the creature through the neck in a flash.

Turning back to the other darkspawn, he smashed his shield into its torso, causing it to double over then bashing it in the face once more, this time knocking it off its feet. He brought his shield down, its sharp rim cleaving into its hideous and bloodied face as it cut through the monster's cheek and jawbone.

The darkspawn's jawless head rolled away from its still twitching corpse, pumping black ichor onto the ground.

Crossbow loaded, I raised it again. This time I scored a kill, the bolt slamming into the forehead of the darkspawn I had been aiming for. It fell with a heavy thump.

_Oh yes. Hell yes._

The darkspawn that had been partially blinded by me earlier screamed in rage, raising its crude weapon and making a beeline straight for me, ignoring the tainted blood pouring out of the gaping hole where its eye once was. It was bowled over by the Warden's mabari before it could even get remotely close to me, its teeth snapping forward at the creature's jugular.

_Or the darkspawn equivalent of a jugular, if they even had one in the first place._

Pure frost shot forth from Morrigan's hands and crashed into three of the creatures, causing them to stiffen and stop as a thick layer of ice coated their limbs.

There wasn't much left after that, as Sten brought his claymore down on the skull of the last darkspawn just as I finished loading my next shot and brought the crossbow to bear. Holding it with steady hands, I surveyed the area for any stragglers. Muscles tensed and coiled like a spring, like a viper ready to strike at moment's notice, vaguely aware of the inhuman shrieks of the darkspawn still struggling with the mabari.

"Lee?" I would've planted a sixteen inch long steel bolt into the damned thing if not for the risk of me hitting the mutt. Could try to cut its throat open instead, but even with one eye, that thing was still very much a threat. My thoughts ended with the wardog finally managed to finish it off, the 'spawn's head slumping back lifelessly as blood poured out of its neck. The massive beast looked up, seemingly proud of its deeds, muzzle stained black with ichor.

"Lee."

_That... didn't take long at all. _My eyes swept across the numerous fresh darkspawn corpses that was laid around in various states. _Felt much longer though._

A hand placed on my shoulder nearly caused me to jump, then another on my arm, gently pushing the crossbow down. "Relax." I found myself looking at Leliana. "It's over now." Her words brought me out of the moment, gasping as I let out the breath I never realised I had been holding.

"Sorry." I choked out, gasping as the tightness of my chest eased slightly, precious oxygen rushing through my lungs as I took heavy breaths. This felt odd. Instead of the numb sensation like I had expected, this was totally different. Just the thrill from the adrenaline brought forth by this tiny little skirmish. And much to my disappointment, I only got one kill. Didn't feel like I actually did much. "Just… holy shit."

_Almost… too easy. Thought it would be much harder… probably should stop that train of thought right there. _

_Oh Lord. _I started gagging, just finally realizing how bad these creatures smell, even more so now that they were dead. Like a corpse of someone who had died, buried in the dirt for a week or two then dug up again.

"Don't worry about it." Alistair walked up to me. "First encounters with the darkspawn are the worst."

"Not that, it's the smell." I groaned, pinching my nose shut and taking shallow breaths.

"What a timely arrival my friend…" Bodahn approached as he made to introduced himself and his son. I took this opportunity to walk away and approach one of the dead darkspawn, wanting to see one of them up close.

It… was basically a hideous mockery of what a man looked like, a perversion of what we humans were. Earlier at a distance all I noticed was mottled skin and the crude pieces of metal hammered together to form armor, a few pieces of leather all that's holding it together. Now?

Festering boils pockmarked its skin, alongside blisters and raw flesh that's not covered by its skin, leaking dark pus and blood. Even in death, its milky wide eyes and mouth lined with razor sharp long decayed teeth still gave the impression that it was grinning demonically. If not for the fact that the creature was nearly decapitated itself, its head half attached to the body, the tainted blood that poured out of its neck already starting to turn the dirt beneath it purple with rot and disease.

_Disgusting._

I turned away, the idea of even getting up close with those things filling me with abhorrence, watching as Alistair moved to finish of the ones frozen by Morrigan. Yet, I couldn't stop myself from stepping closer.

Alistair took out the second frozen darkspawn while I approached the last, the beast weakly struggling to break free, drops of blood spitting out of its mouth with every breath. It's partially frozen armor cracked with every movement it made in a poor attempt to free itself. Small chinks lengthened and expanded into tiny webs that chipped off with every motion, revealing the similarly frozen flesh beneath.

It's a wonder how anything could still be alive, never mind moving. Lungs, if it had one, probably half frozen from what Morrigan had done, enough to drop a grown man onto his knees, gasping for air. And yet here it was, still single mindedly focused on one simple objective; Kill.

Hell, damn thing's probably already dead or dying. It just hadn't realized it yet.

I fired a bolt into its chest from close range, the steel bolt easily punching through and breaking apart its now brittle chest armor like plaster along with part of the flesh beneath. It collapsed, wheezing. Barely any blood had spilled, most of it frozen along with the rest of its chest.

_Guess I wouldn't be doing any recycling of used crossbow bolts. _I thought, looking down at the bolt, now deeply embedded in what's left of the chest of a now dead hurlock. _Should've just stabbed it, what a waste of perfectly good ammunition. _

I sighed, realising my mistake a second too late as I started gagging, stumbling away to distance myself from those things. Once more, I found myself echoing the sentiment I had for these creatures from earlier.

_Disgusting._

_**~88888~**_

I found myself tracing my fingers across the map, marking out every possible path and road that could be used under the dim light of the campfire. Beside me were two more map scrolls, one of the Hinterlands, another the region immediate south of it that covers the Fallow Mire and West Hill arling.

Why the maps?

Honnleath's a small village. A backwater village in the middle of nowhere of no importance, like Rosden. Villages like that usually weren't important enough to earn a place on most large maps, so I had to turn to smaller maps to help me figure out where the bloody hell this village was located.

I looked up from the map to see Sten seated nearby, inspecting his massive claymore as he held a whetstone in one hand, idly bringing it across the surface of the blade every once in a while to rid of some near non-existent imperfections. A tranquil look carved on his dark face as he repeated the action.

Unlike me, who stripped out of my armor and wore a simple cloth tunic and breeches with a dagger on my belt, this guy still looked as if he's ready to march into battle at moment's notice.

I lowered the map I'm holding, a question that had been bugging me ever since Dragon Age 2 came out at the edge of my lips. "Sten is it not?" The Qunari, kossith looked up from his sword at me. "I have a question."

Calm purple eyes stared into mine. I resisted the urge to look away. "Speak then."

"When people think of Qunari in general, three things come in mind; shirtless giants, horns and javelins." I already knew the answer regarding the hrns but included it anyway. "You are not topless, and neither do I see your horns or javelins."

"… What about it?"

"Is it a role, rank, social hierarchy or Qun thing to own javelins or being fully covered?"

"No."

Seeing that he had no intention of finishing the sentence, I pressed on. "Then why…?"

"No." He repeated.

I looked at him in confusion. "As in, you don't want to tell me or it's hard to…"

"People and society cannot be simply summarized for easy reference in the manner of: 'The elves are a lithe, pointy eared people who excel at poverty.'" He had simply said. "Should you desire to know more, I would have to sit you before a Tamassran, but that option unavailable for obvious reasons."

I sat there, stumped. Of all the answers, that certainly wasn't one that I expected to hear from him. Certainly wasn't expected that line to be directed at me. After a paused I nodded, conceding and going back to the maps. "Alright, fair point."

_Well there, conversing with Sten. Go me._

_Never mind that it went kinda one sided._

I lasted another minute before dumping the map aside. _Well, guess I'll be striking Edgehall off the list. Bloody backwater illusive villages. _Looking up, my eyes fell on the Warden, who happened to be in an animated conversation with Bodahn and his lyrium addled son while occasionally shooting a glance at my horse. Her mabari sat by her feet, licking its paws as it traded stares with Snickers, who's more than content to just nibble on what little grass it could find.

Not used to actually being around horses, or curious about the difference between them and their halla?

Unlike the game, Bodahn and Sandal wouldn't be sticking around for long, instead offering a discount of his products and to hurl our gear using his cart until we part ways. As for their pack mule… it died in the darkspawn attack earlier, so now my horse's taking over the role temporarily.

_Hmm, speaking of merchants…_ I got up, maps in hand and headed for them. The Warden, with her damned sensitive elven hearing, turned and saw that it was I approaching, scowled and walked away. Bodahn looked confused by her sudden departure before he turned to greet me.

"I don't believe we've been introduced." The dwarf offered me a friendly handshake, his face unreadable as he regarded me. Couldn't blame him really, even a blind man could see that there's tension around and that the Warden didn't like me. "Name's Bodahn Feddic and this is my son Sandal."

"Hello."

"Lee." I took the dwarf's hand in mine and gave it a firm shake. Felt weird shaking hands with a dwarf, height difference and all. I twisted my neck to look at the Warden walking back to camp before focusing at the task at hand. "Pleased to meet you Bodahn. And you too Sandal."

Sandal stared at me, a blank look faraway in his eyes.

"Anyway." I took out my scrolls of maps. "Would it be alright if I asked you for directions?"

"Sure, I'll do my best to help."

"Enchantment."

"Well, I'm trying to find this little village called Honnleath, but I'm having trouble locating it, so I'm wondering if you ever heard or been to the place."

The dwarf thought for a moment. "Can't say that I've been there, but it should somewhere in the West Hills arling. Do you have a map?"

"Right here." I sorted through my scrolls until I dug out the right one and handed it over. Bodahn took it, then unrolling it before he made a mark on the map and handed it back to me. I thanked him, then Sandal spoke.

"You are touched. Enchanted." He spoke plainly. I wondered if he actually understood half of what he himself said. "She sees you."

_She…? Flemeth?_

I shuddered slightly, cold chills running down my spine as I thought of my connection with that bloody woman, or whatever she was, it was.

"Sandal, what's gotten into you?" Bodahn looked at me, apologetic. "Sorry about that, sometimes-"

"Oh don't worry about it." I waved him off with false cheer. "I get that a lot. Thanks for the help Bodahn, later Sandal."

The sooner I get this golem business done, the better.

Sten was now walking around the borders of our little camp in a silent vigil, watching the tree line and the distant hills for threats. Leliana, no longer in her Chantry robes, sat near her tent with a lute in her hand, playing a soft tune that broke apart the odd silence and occasional sounds of movement. Morrigan's off in her little corner and Alistair… probably in his tent I think.

I sat back down by the fire, checking the spot where Bodahn have marked. Apparently, Honnleath is located somewhere in the highlands dangerously close to the south and Korcari Wilds, separated by a barrier of forested hills that stood between the two locations.

Dejection hit me when I realised that it was bordered by Chasind territory, not at all excited at the possibility of bumping into barbarians. I couldn't remember much about them, the two years spent in Thedas having eroded most of what little I already knew about them. They never really mattered in the games anyway, so I didn't even bother to read up much about those tribals.

Back home, the tree hugging types of tribals never really gotten along with civilization, so I suppose its safe to assume the same here. Especially given the hostilities between the people of West Hills and their Avvar, Chasind neighbours, who made annual raids into the more fertile lowlands every winter. Hopefully, we don't bump into any of them. Not really keen to be greeted with an arrow to the face, or thrown into some pot to be cooked and used for some disturbing barbaric rituals they practice. Or worse, sacrificed to whatever they worship in their spare time.

Though on the bright side, they probably had better things to do and worry about, like say the darkspawn.

...I'm getting distracted.

So if we were to get there, we'll have to follow the East Road along the small ravine into the Hinterlands, then, perhaps, stock up at the village at the Crossroads, which might be where we part ways with Bodahn. After that, its south through the Dwarfson's Pass into West Hills….

"Something the matter?" The heavy Orlesian accent made the bard's words sound melodic as I shifted my gaze from the map. "You look… stressed."

"I hate maps." I shrugged, looking over at her and noting the small fresh circlet made from flowers on her lap. _Did she just make that? I mean, I did see her pick an occasional flower while we were still on the road…_

"I thought you know where it is?" She replied with a teasing smile.

"Well yes, I know where to find the golem, but I never said anything about knowing how to get there." I replied. So far, she's the friendliest, right beside Alistair. I tried making conversation with Morrigan back on the road earlier, and that was just terrifying. The Warden… just dislikes me by default. "So how are you finding all this so far? Playing the part of a dashing hero everything you've expected?"

"Its too early to say, non? The journey has barely begun, its members uncertain of each other and the challenges they are to face in the coming days." _Well, I guess that's one way to see things. _"And I'm just glad that one of the Wardens seem accepting, but I still feel like I'm… intruding somehow."

I let out a small bark of laughter. "Well at least she hadn't called you an opportunistic bastard yet, so there's still hope for you."

"Give it time, I'm sure things will get better."

"Before or after I'm done with this golem business?" I remarked. "I should be the one to be saying that you know, considering that you seem determined to stay for the long run."

"I… oui, that's true." She idly plucked a string on her lute. "So are you?"

"What?"

"Going to say that things will get better."

I paused. "Too early. Wouldn't want to start jinxing myself this soon."

"Didn't take you for the superstitious kind." She giggled before fixing me with a more serious look. "Anyway, indulge me if you don't mind but I was just wondering, where did you get the rod?"

"Actually," a voice interrupted right before I could answer. "I was wondering about that myself." I looked up to see the Warden approach, raising one eyebrow in surprise that she actually approached me _without _a disdainful glare or a slur ready to be thrown at me.

"Someone had no use for it and passed it on to me." I answered after a moment's deliberation. Not exactly, false, just half-truths. So technically, I never lied.

She scoffed, clearly and unsurprisingly not buying it. "Right… You just happened to meet someone who happened to happily give you something this valuable? I've heard more convincing lies from da'le- children, shem."

"He was convinced it was a dwarven sex toy." I said with a straight face.

The Warden's upper lip twitched as she tried to look crossed and annoyed at my jest.

"Are all shems just annoying, or is it just you?"

"Define what constitutes as 'annoying' to you."

"You are testing my patience shem."

"Very well then." I sighed in resignation. "Flemeth, The Flemeth, gave it to me. She thought it would be funny."

"Flemeth." She repeated dryly.

"I believe your people call her Asha'be…" I trailed off, the last syllable lost to me, face twisted up in thought. "How do you pronounce it again?"

She scowled, bent down to shove me onto my back from where I'm seated then stomped off. I wasn't prepared for that at all, being shoved for asking an innocent question about what did the Dalish call Flemeth in their language, rolling unceremoniously onto my back with a small surprised 'oof'.

"What was that for?" I scowled, throwing her a nasty look as I pulled myself back up, glowering at her retreating back.

"You shouldn't antagonize her you know." Leliana spoke up to break the awkward silence after a while.

"Antagonize? I told her what she wanted, she didn't believe me-" I took a deep breath. "Yeah, maybe."

"So… someone had a dwarven artifact and just decided to give it to you?"

"So much doubt." I groaned, my annoyance building up at the lack of trust I've been given. And from Leliana of all people. Though to be fair, she only knew me for a few days. "Perhaps I should've just sold it to the crown, they seem less inclined to ask questions when a gift horse is dropped onto their lap. Jokes aside, I know some people. Back in the day that is."

"So what are you back in the day?"

"A little someone who spent sometime doing some work for the Mage's Collective." I said, enjoying the rare look of surprise on her face as I did. "And before you ask, no I did not get into anything that involves little children or virgin's blood."

"You worked in the Mage's Collective?"

"Hey, it paid well. Very well." I defended.

"You seem very forthcoming with your background." She was quick to note, quickly becoming far more interested in the fact that I once worked for the elusive group rather than the mystery of the control rod.

"Well you don't seem to be bothered at all at the idea of illegal, unleashed or free mages." I vaguely pointed in the direction of Morrigan's camp for emphasis. "Besides, I'm already travelling with a company of individuals who had been denounced as traitors to the crown with a bounty on their heads, things couldn't possibly..." As soon as I registered what I had meant to say, I quickly clammed up, groaning. "I'm not going to finish that sentence."

"Superstitious are you?" Leliana quickly noted, a small smile of faint amusement lingering on her face. "You should sleep, you look tired. Can't have you reading the map wrong and leading us to the wrong place now, non?"

"What, no!" I yawned right as I said that, much to my dismay. "Okay, maybe… yeah I'm just going to sleep before I further jinx myself tonight." I got up and excused myself, gathering the maps as I did. "What about you?"

"Is that a proposition I hear?" She slyly asked, laughing when I made a strangled, choking sound, face flush. "I'm on first watch, so I'll be sleeping later."

I walked away awkwardly, still red from her teasing, which ended in a small smile when I heard her start playing some lively tune on her lute right as I flipped the flap of my tent.

_Well... that all went rather well for my first day, I think..._

With another yawn, I dropped my maps near my bag and laid down on the bedding, eyes drooping as I slowly slipped into slumber.

* * *

**_A.N: Thanks to Fanfiction Reviewer Man for giving me some pointers. _**


	5. Spanish Inquisition

_**A.N: Had to scrap the original and rework this chapter a couple times. Apologies for the delay.**_

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**5th Justinian, 30 Dragon**

**East Road**

"So…"

The Warden looked over her shoulder irritably, growling something incomprehensible to my ears as she slowed her steps. "_What_?" Her tone made it clear that this had better be something important, which unfortunately, it was not.

"I just realised that all this time, I've yet to catch your name. So I was wondering…"

A sigh, frustration evident and annoyance on her face. "Why?"

"Why?" I found myself struggling for an appropriate response to that. "Well, it's just weird if I don't know what to call you by, or keep addressing you as Warden."

"You don't see me going around asking for names do you shem?"

"To be fair, it was because I gave you mine."

"Which I did not ask for." She retorted, drawing a sigh out of me as I dropped the issue, seeing that I'll not get much out of her. Everyone in the game called the PC 'Warden' instead of their name anyway, which was never uttered, or last name, which was barely mentioned. Guess I'll be counted amongst them.

We were travelling on the West Road, a path paved on the side of a steep gorge that led into the Hinterlands. In game, it had been said that Redcliffe was essentially, unassailable. It was hard to see how that was the case, especially since the 'unassailable' was overrun with the walking dead when the party first arrived, and eventually near endgame, attacked by darkspawn. The latter which managed to breach the castle gates and get _inside_ to the main courtyard.

Unassailable, right…

Now I'm starting to see why that's the case.

Apparently, for a place that's known to be comprised of 'a good deal of fertile agricultural land', valleys filled with fields of corn and wheat, brimming with life and hope, it's very hilly and cliffy. Which made for perfect natural chokepoints against anyone looking to besiege Redcliffe, since getting close enough to the castle to actually lay siege to it would be problematic.

Bloody even, I dimly noted as I eyed the gatehouse ahead of us that watched over this narrow path. Twin watchtowers, one on each end on the gorge, connected by a bridge that arched over the road. A small fort, barracks for the tiny garrison, stood on the other side of the gorge beside the tower, its walls lined with arrow slits to allow its defenders to harass anyone trying to break through the gates.

If every other path were this fortified, then yes, now I see the truth the Redcliffe's unassailable reputation.

Thankfully that wouldn't be the case here today for us, gates were wide open.

Wouldn't have the numbers to storm in anyway, and if it did come down to that, I rather throw the golem rod down this gorge and put as much distance between me and Ferelden as quickly as I can.

_Though while a land assault would prove costly, what about a waterborne assault? No, Lake Calenhad's not big enough to hold an invasion fleet anyway. Why am I even thinking about such things?_

We passed the gatehouse, the soldiers garrisoned shooting us fleeting glance at our odd group as we did. The Warden kept her head fixed on the path before her, posture stiffening when we walked under the arch of the gateway. She looked up at one point, at the ceiling, then quickly adverted her gaze, quickening her pace.

Didn't need superior elven hearing to know that her breathing hitched at that split second. To Dalish, what they had for walls and ceilings back in their clan were just thin flaps that made up their aravel. Thick stone walls and ceilings were just utterly alien to their kind I presume, constricting even, to even think about being inside a human made structure.

Sten just watched, silently evaluating the defensive value of the structure, nodding or shaking his head at whatever that he took notice of.

"How far are we from this… village?" The Warden had asked me once we put some distance between us and the gatehouse, not looking behind.

"Still quite a distance. Though we could stop by at the crossroads ahead, there's a small village there where we could rest up and resupply for the night..." I didn't need to be looking at her face to know that she had scowled at the idea.

"Why would we do that?" Her voice tried to hide her irritation at having to spend a night in a human settlement, and failed badly.

"It happens to be lying in our path?" I shrugged. "No one will need to take watch for the night? Actual meals, instead of whatever Alistair cooked up?"

"Hey!" Came the protest from the ex-Templar in question.

The mabari made a point to act like it was choking, gagging at the mention of Alistair's cooking.

"See? Even the Warden's mutt agrees." I pointed out.

The Warden made a sound of annoyance. "He, is not a _mutt_. His name is Arla, and I suggest you use it."

"Wait, so you would tell me the name of your mabari, but not your name?"

"Creators, do all shems get that worked up over _names_ or just you?"

"I wouldn't know."

Alistair cut into the conversation before the argument could take off. "Speaking of the Crossroads, we probably should stop by in Redcliffe since it'll be nearby. Get the Arl's support against Loghain and all that."

_Oh hell no._

"The Arl?" I quickly asked, despite already knowing the answer to my own question. "Why him?"

"He's the King's uncle, he'll never stand for what the Teryn did." Alistair answered as a matter of factly.

I quickly tried to work out a way to avoid going to Redcliffe. "And he'll believe you because…"

"I know Arl Eamon, he's an honourable man. He'll listen to us, if anyone can oppose Loghain, its him."

"Exactly why you should _avoid_ going to Redcliffe."

Alistair frowned, the action mirrored by the Warden, though in her case it was more out of thought and curiosity rather than indignance. "Why would you say that?"

"Just hear me out. How certain are you that the arl of Redcliffe would oppose Loghain?"

"Very."

"And that's why. If Arl Eamon is a staunch supporter of the King as you said, then of course Loghain would be very much aware of that fact too. Especially if its certain that the arl would, without a doubt, oppose the teryn for his actions at Ostagar."

The Warden eyed me sceptically. "Are…you sure you are not over complicating the situation. I've got enough on my mind already."

"He's right actually." Leliana pipped in. "Regicide is not anyone, especially someone like Teryn Loghain, would just do because of a whim. It would be planned, meticulously, so the parties involved could quickly consolidate while everyone is still reeling from the shock that the monarch is dead."

"Thank you." I nodded at the bard. "I may be over thinking it because the Teryn is more of a marshal kind of noble rather than a political, scheming kind, let's just say he did plan this out carefully. Then he would already have a list of who can he count on as allies and who would oppose him without question. So right after the regicide, he could quickly move to gather allegiances, and at the same time, make a move against those who would oppose him before they are actually ready to do so."

Alistair, while not entirely looking like he was following, at least looked like he got the gist of what I'm trying to say. The Warden, on the other hand, not so much, a blank, lost look on her face as she stared at me. She muttered a few choice oaths in elvish, shaking her head. "So what does that even mean?"

Leliana filled in for me. "That we'll find agents of Loghain in Redcliffe."

"So? We'll kill them?"

Leliana was quickly alarmed by that suggestion, hastily shooting it down. "Then that'll give the Teryn Regent the perfect excuse to declare that the Arl of Redcliffe is harbouring traitors to the crown."

Provided we didn't get captured in the process. "Yeah, I don't know about you, but I'm not looking forward to being chained, charged with treason, then publicly gutted and hanged."

The Warden scowled. "Isn't the whole point to… kill this Loghain?"

"Dispose." The bard corrected. "If Ferelden is to enter civil war, then there wouldn't be any soldiers left to stop the Blight because they all killed each other. Which is not something we should be aiming for."

Sten seemed to disagree. "If he is not suit for command, he should be removed from command. If he resists, then no one should mourn his loss."

Leliana frowned. "Yes, but not when he has people who believe that he is right. Many people still revere him as the Hero of River Dane, and unless we break that image, killing him will only turn him into a martyr."

The Warden scowled again, a rather intense one. "How is it that killing a single shem, can be so complicated?"

I exchanged a look with Leliana before finding an answer with a single word. "Politics." I answered. "And no, it's not a human thing. Dwarves are no different. Okay, maybe a little different, if you think the humans are complicated, then clearly you haven't seen how dwarven politics work."

Leliana looked at me. "And you have?"

Oh shit. Time to hold back a little. "Not really, but most dwarves I've met didn't have anything good to say about it."

"And you met many dwarves?"

Well…

The Dalish elf rolled her eyes. "Wonder how did my ancestors managed to lose to your kind when you shems seem to bicker so much amongst yourselves and get nothing done."

Obstinate, arrogant, haughty and ignorant. A true Dalish. Funny, because their behaviour mirrors the upper classes of human society, thumbing their noses at those they believe to be beneath them. That superior outlook that plagued many of the nobility.

I resisted the urge to voice my opinion.

Alistair thankfully managed to take my mind off that matter. "Do I even want to know how in the world did you come to that… rather astute observation?"

"I told you I'm not a merchant. A merchant's head would be empty aside from numbers, profit and riches."

"And here I thought you spend your time planning regicides, throwing kingdoms and empires into chaos."

"I leave that task to my doppelgangers, because I plan to be the first man to sit on the Sunburst Throne."

"Lee!" Leliana scolded, scandalized by my rabid blasphemy. Though would it count as blasphemy if it came from a non-believer?

Alistair, on the other hand. "You have doppelgangers?"

"Three of them."

"I can think of lots of things I could do with doppelgangers."

"I'm not sharing."

A sound of annoyance from the elf as she interrupted us. "So are we dropping by at Redcliffe or not?"

"I'm not." I said. "Don't know about you but I'm not eager to be chained, charged with treason, then publicly gutted and hanged."

"You worry too much." Leliana interjected, a smirk plying at her lips.

"Worrying is good. Keeps one's mind sharp and alert for mistakes while contentment breeds carelessness which can lead to mistakes." Sten remarked.

"Thank you." I beamed, though half caught in surprise that Sten actually said something that sounded like a _compliment_ to me.

"Of course, too much worry can lead one to see enemies when there is none, lashing out at shadows and letting perfect opportunities slip from your hands fearing failure despite how overwhelmingly slim it is."

And there's the Sten I knew.

Unsurprisingly, Morrigan hadn't said a single word that entire time, politics clearly being out of her element and too proud to show her unfamiliarity with the subject. So she stayed silent.

It was quiet for the rest of the way to the Crossroads, except for the Warden who hung back to bug Bodahn and milk him for every bit of information she could get about Orzammar from the dwarf.

We bumped into darkspawn again. A lone darkspawn, heavily wounded and half dead, limbs twisted in odd angles.

I didn't find myself getting squeamish about it, since I already saw and knew what darkspawn looked like, and this one was of no threat, harmless unless one was dumb enough to get close enough to be scratched, or bitten by it. Its weak spasms increased with frequency the second it sensed the Wardens, twitching and snarling when we got close enough.

It was promptly lobotomized and burnt to ashes.

I looked up at the top of the ravine, wondering if it had gotten separated from the rest of its warband on accident, then to cap off its misfortune, had a misstep and ended up rolling all the way down.

I found out that I didn't care either way, though slightly worried at the prospect of darkspawn at the top of the ravine, since it meant that they could easily ambush travellers if they had chosen to, by say, starting a rockslide. Being crushed to death by a rock certainly was a shitty way to go.

Though oddly enough, I felt a little disappointed, as if hoping that we might actually bump into _more _darkspawn, just so to break up the monotony of this endless walking.

Scary.

It took us the better part of the day before we reached the Crossroads, when the sun was well into its descent and the skies above a rich golden orange hue. The village wasn't much, way smaller than Lothering. Here, it was where we bade farewell and went separate ways with the dwarves, since they weren't going south with us.

Bodahn thanked me for lending him my horse temporarily, then gave me additional discount on top of what he was already giving us for the purchase of a single item. I think he was expecting me to buy some poultices, weapons or something, because he looked pretty dismayed when I ended up taking the sapphire necklace.

Not for myself damn it, to sell.

A small mini-investment to recouple my losses, if it needed to be.

I met up with the rest at the local inn, securing my horse at the stables just outside. The place looked rather crowded, bustling with folk, took me a while before I found where the others were at, a table at the far corner of the inn, as distanced as possible from the centre of the rabble. Not surprising, considering the Warden's Dalish. Being amongst lots of humans, especially drunk ones, to her that just appalling.

_At least dinner's already served. So I wouldn't have to wait._ Then I stared at the extra bowls placed before both Wardens, watching Alistair just wolf it down with unnatural speed. _Yeah, Warden appetite and all, wonder if the Grey Wardens ever have to worry about one of their members choking on their meal?_

"Why is it so crowded?" I heard the elf ask as I pulled out a chair and sat down.

"There's a war going on," Leliana said. "People are always moving, to get out of the way of the armies, searching for kin or a safer place to settle down. And every one of them needs food, water, and a warm bed with a roof over their heads. An inn provides all of that."

The Warden, _do I have to keep referring to her as THE Warden? Christ alive,_ looked like she disagreed. Unsurprising. Dalish lived in tents, or whatever they called it, spending most of their time sleeping under the stars, frolicking with nature. Cities, towns, villages, to the elves, the Dalish elves, they were unnatural constructs built by 'arrogant humans who believe they rule the world'.

Hell, she looked edgy, constantly looking up at the ceiling and stonewalls like they were constricting her. Probably worried, wondering if it would just collapse and bury us beneath it. Hell, she looked oddly small here, overwhelmed and out of element, wincing and shrinking herself even smaller when the table nearby started howling loudly at some joke one of them was telling.

Especially apparent since Sten was sitting amongst us, a giant looming over our heads as he silently ate.

She started glaring daggers at the neighbouring table. I sighed. _Great choice there Duncan. _"Relax." I said. "Giving them disdainful glares wouldn't make them stop just because you want them to stop."

"They're loud."

"They're humans. We _are _loud in case you haven't noticed."

She snorted at that, but did not let up her glare. I looked down at the bowl. "What… is this?"

"Rabbit stew." Alistair happily supplied while Leliana bent over, muttering her disapprovals of Fereldens and their culinary in general. "Though the cook has much to improve on. The traditional Ferelden stew is supposed to look uniform grey and unappetizing, not rich brown."

A small whine from under the table voiced everyone's opinions on that matter.

"See, the mabari agrees. Oww!" He jumped in his seat, looking at the Warden. "Your dog bit me."

I shrugged, digging in. Hey, it's not Alistair's cooking, that's good enough for me.

Morrigan grabbed my wrist not long after I took my first bites. I turned, swallowed, surprised since this was the first time Morrigan had actually interacted with me considering that we mostly just kept out of each other's way so far. An eyebrow went up in a curious arc as I wondered what she wanted from me. "Outside. We need to talk."

"Now?" I groaned. "I just got here."

"Yes." She stood up, giving me a look that brokered no argument, and promised pain if I did not follow. I sighed, half swearing under my breath and made to follow, the odd curious and looks from the others staring at my retreating back as I did.

Exiting the inn, I strode behind the witch and onto the streets, wondering where she's bringing me to. Ignoring the lewd stares aimed at her, and one catcall which quickly ended with her breaking his nose with a quick swing from her staff., she led me two buildings away and into a small dark alley between two thatched houses.

I was starting to get a little nervous, stopping in my step. I could barely see anything in this dark, the faint illuminated outline of Morrigan in the shadows seemingly making her look more mystic than she already is. "Is there a particular reason you brought me here, or… should I be really worried?"

"I suppose this is as good as any to have a private conversation." She said to me, turning around.

I waited for her to begin, and raised an eyebrow when she didn't. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"A little while back, t'was talking to our illustrious leader."

"What about it?"

She crossed her arms under her chest, unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally, drawing my eyes to it. I quickly adverted my gaze before I found myself missing a few organs. "I don't suppose you know who I am?"

_Flemeth's daughter, though I'm more interested in who in the right mind would lay with her and conceive a child together. Brave lad. Or incredibly stupid._

"Chasind shaman?" I faked a guess.

"Flemeth's daughter."

"Really?"

"Do you doubt me?"

"I… don't know? Should I?"

A small smile played at the corner of her lips. "You said you got the rod from Flemeth, _my _mother."

Ohhhhh… shit. "I also said I got it from a dwarf who believed it's a sex toy."

"Your attempts at deflecting the question with crude humor is not appreciated."

"I'm not. I did say that." I replied, holding back a grimace. "Is there a reason you are asking me all this?"

"A simple curiosity, to know who will I be travelling with, even if it may be temporarily." She said to me. _Right, except nothing is simple when it comes to you. _"You travel with the sole purpose of selling a tool, yet you do not claim to be a merchant."

"A hunter who hunts animals and sells their meat is not a merchant. A farmer who sells his surplus crops is not a merchant." I said. "Likewise, I am just someone who happened to find myself in possession of a dwarven weapon and decides to sell it. That does not make me a merchant."

"Clearly." She said. "Then what are you if not a merchant?"

I shrugged. "Unwanted tagalong."

"A rather accurate description." She was quick to agree. "Yet that does not really answer my question."

"Courier, clerk, stock keeping, librarian, bookbinder, editor, barrister's assistant bartender, innkeep's assistant and informant." I listed. "Take your pick."

Morrigan's face was unreadable. "T'was quite a list."

_Yeah, being educated unlike the other ninety percent of the population kinda inflates my job options. _"Thank you."

"Tis not a compliment."

Figures.

"Strange, to think that you would leave behind all that just to sell a dwarf sex toy." She noted, the barest hints of accusation in her voice. "Why's that? You a pawn? Working under the orders of some handler who had an invested interest in the Blight? Or do you have some other motivations, to make sure Ferelden falls to the Blight?" Her staff was raised, its tip pointed at me as magic came alive and wrapped around the orb at its end. "What gives, I wonder?"

I felt my heart stop, restart, and stop again. Cold tendrils of fear wrapped around my heart as I stared at the witch wide eyed, involuntarily backing myself into the wall behind me, where Morrigan pressed the tip of her staff against my neck.

"Answer quickly, or I will rearrange your insides." She threatened.

"Highever." I quickly sputtered, raising my hands up in surrender. "She gave it to me in Highever."

"Who's, 'she'? She demanded.

"Flemeth damn it, she dumped it in my lap! Then went all cryptic about Grey Wardens and stuff, I swear!"

"Flemeth, does not just give out trinkets to strangers." She hissed, edging closer. "I might just rearrange your-"

"If you are what you claim to be, then why not you go and ask your damned mother?" I fired back in half panic. "And don't ask me why, because she was all cryptic about it."

"You lie."

"Go. Ask. Her. You did just tell me that you are Flemeth's daughter. Maybe she'll tell you what she wouldn't tell me, so I can get this done much faster and be on my way."

There was silence between us for a while as she gave some thought to my answer, her staff never leaving my neck. "Your answer is satisfactory." She said, pulling away and drawing a gasp of relief from me. "For now." She walked away, without turning back to see if I'm following or an apology.

I stood there, regathering my composure before sliding down on the ground, back against the wall, my mind numb and worn from that short exchange. My heart thumped violently within the confines of my ribs, threatening to break free from its prison. So much so that it hurts, a lot. _Deep breaths, deep breaths. Come on, she can't be as scary as the darkspawn. _

_Well, she can actually. She's fucking Flemeth's daughter. _

_Fuck. Sodding bloody…_

My hand touched the pommel of the dagger on my belt, then fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt, clenched around it. Knuckles went white as my grip tightened, a mantra repeating itself in my head as I forced myself to calm.

_Fuck._

I groaned, knees to my chest, palming my face. "Fucking Flemeth…" I uttered.

I returned back to the inn much later, plopping down on the chair wordlessly, where the stew argument was still ongoing, both the bard and ex-Templar throwing in their opinions on the issue.

"… a litany of dishes based on the said ingredients, cook it right and the surface should look like a crusty golden cake…"

"Golden? Okay, that is just not how a stew should look like."

"It's not just stew Alistair, its onion soup! We call it soupe à l'oignon."

Morrigan was still there, acting as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just interrogated me and threatened to scramble my insides. She barely looked at me.

I guess some could interpret that as her being awkward or ashamed of her false accusations of me, but… well, it's not. Truth was nothing had changed. We never really interacted and kept out of each other's way in the past, and we're still doing that.

Just life as usual in the party.

"Now you are getting it all wrong. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that, all cooked Orlesian style…"

"It has cheese in it."

"Cheese? In soup? How does that even work?"

"Finely grated cheese."

"I take it all back. Do you know how to make it?"

I looked down at my meal, which had gone cold during the time I was absent. An odd sensation caused me to look up, and see Morrigan looking at me with an unnerving smile. _Creepy._ I shivered, and looked back at my stew.

I didn't feel hungry anymore.

.

.

.

The mane struck me as coarser than I had expected, dry and not as numerous and concentrated as the human hair. The animal snorted, blowing air out of its mouth in an almost dismissive gesture as I ran my palm down the length of its neck. The skin felt alive, twitching and quivering in response to my touch.

Snickers bent its head into the trough, more interested in the hay rather than me, though it made no signs of wanting me to stop or discomfort, ears erect and tail swaying in motion to the soft evening breeze that managed to seep in through the woodwork of the stables. Actually, I really wasn't sure what that meant, since I never really knew how to read horses. For all I knew, the horse could be telling me to bugger off or it'll introduce its hoof to my chest.

Really wished Anna was around, instead of stuck in Denerim. Wondered if she recovered by now.

Hopefully.

Bet she's pissed that I left her alone in that cesspit. I'll probably be greeted with a fist the second she saw me.

"Tell me about it."

I fought back the urge to jump at the sudden appearance of the Warden behind me. "Has anyone evertold you that it's rude to sneak up on others? Not to mention disastrous for health?"

She rolled her eyes. "I did not sneak. I walked in normally."

"No you didn't. I would've heard you."

"No you wouldn't. Your kind has atrocious hearing." She walked up to my horse, her mabari at her heels. "Tell me about them."

"It's a horse."

Her eyes rolled again. "Fenedhis, you don't say."

"I'm not exactly the best person to go to if you want to know about them, I barely knew anything about horses myself." I rambled off. "Well, that is, aside from the fact this twit here has a habit of trying to eat my hair every chance it gets. You should really ask Leliana if you want to know more."

She stared at me with a disgusted look. "You barely understand your horse, let alone take care of it, yet you drag it around to carry your burdens, be your servant and obey your orders-"

"When you put it that way, it makes me sound like an asshole." I paused. "That's probably not too far from the truth itself actually. Look, did you come here just to argue with me, or did you have something else in your mind?"

"I-" Whatever she was about to say died in her mouth when her mabari trod forward, staring up at my horse. The two animals locked eyes for a moment, before the mutt made the first move, sitting down and panting before letting lose a small friendly bark. A short second passed, then Snickers returned the gesture by touching its snout with Arla's nose, drawing another bark as it got up and ran small circles around the horse.

"Well, at least they seem to be getting along well." I dully noted. The Warden took this as a sign, and approached my mount almost cautiously, taking small steps as she neared the human domesticated beast. Snickers looked up, staring at the elf with wide and sharp eyes, curious about what she would do yet at the same time, cautious of her motives.

She muttered a few phrases in elvish softly under her breath, then raised a hand. The horse stiffened, eyeing her small hand critically, before something in her voice caused her to relax. A whisper, as she shakily lower her hand on the mount's neck, the animal almost _purring _with approval as it leaned into the touch.

I shouldn't be surprised, really. I mean she's an elf, one attuned with nature since she's Dalish. By the law of fantasy that dominated almost every work of fiction with elves in them, wood elves, or elves attuned with nature, by default, gets along with every possible kind of animal. Trust and bonds with the wilds were second nature to them.

_As compared to humans. We burn, enslave and pillage what we did not understand. Man, the monstrosities, the horrors… _I sarcastically noted in my mind. _Where are my elf ears? I want a pair. _

I'll like to see her tame a high dragon. That'll be something.

Leaving her to admire, awe-struck by her close proximity to probably her first close encounter with a horse, I went back to the inn. Others' hopefully finished up and were on their way to sleep. Maybe I could get a small snack before I join them upstairs, since I didn't eat much for dinner. My belly growled in agreement as I hastened myself.

"Wait."

I stopped, hand inches away from touching the door. A small groan of annoyance left my lips as I turned to the elf. "What? Not done in your verbal crusade about how my people were sodding arseholes and barbaric? Do that tomorrow, I'm tired, now if there's nothing else…"

An annoyed look stretched across her face as she resisted the urge to return the barb. "What did Morrigan speak to you about?"

At her mention, my mood soured tenfold. "How about you ask her instead?"

"She dodged my question and turned into a crow. Flew off into the night."

"Right…" I made a point to look and sound skeptical. "Crow turning, uh huh. Seems legit."

She muttered something about Mythal's mercy under her breath. "She's a shapeshifter…"

"This is a human settlement, I suggest you keep quiet about what Morrigan can or cannot do, least of all she gets dragged away by Templars. Not that I'll mind if she did." I added the last part almost bitterly.

She glanced around, before stepping closer and pulling me away from the inn. "My point, she's not around to answer my question."

"Wait till tomorrow. I'm sure she'll be delighted to answer."

"I rather hear it from you."

"Funny. I thought you don't trust the word of a shemlen merchant."

"Be serious. For once." She hissed, annoyance leaking into her tone.

I did my best to keep my opinions on the matter to myself. "Alright. How about why none of you mentioned that she's Flemeth's daughter? Or so she claimed…"

"It is. Long story."

I'm sure, getting shot full of arrows at Ostagar, carried off by a dragon while a battle raged below. "Would be nice to know beforehand, especially before she came to me about the barb I made previously about getting the rod from Flemeth herself."

"Oh, that." She said almost dismissively. "I made a slight mention of that to her, didn't know she would confront you over it."

"Surprise, surprise, she did. Threatened to scramble my insides while she's at it, though I doubt you'll complain if she really did that."

She didn't deny it, nor confirm it. Not reassuring. "That's it? She asked you about the rod as well? Nothing more."

"Yes, what were you expecting? That she wanted to be my elicit lover? Disappear into the dead of the night? Now are you going to keep asking me questions or can I go?"

She frowned, disturbed at the thought. Hell, I myself felt disgusted just by saying that, dirty even. _Repulsive. _I shuddered in disgust, wondering if there's any place for me to buy some bleach to pour into my ear.

With a sigh, she waved me off, and I was more than happy to comply, heading back into the inn and took a seat at one of the empty tables. Letting my head fall, it dropped to the table rather loudly, a rattling sound that drew the disapproval of the innkeep as my skull impacted against wood.

She came over to see what I wanted.

"Some bread." I told her. A brief flash of my earlier conversation with Morrigan came to mind. "And a drink."

_Fucking Flemeth._

* * *

**_A.N: Once again, reviews and feedbacks, especially feedbacks, is always appreciated._**


	6. Casting The Die

_**A.N: This is starting to become a bad trend. I finish a chapter, decide its not good enough, delete, rewrite. Plus life commitments, and distractions that slows me down. Anyway, here's the next chapter, a little unbetaed so, err, sorry if there's a little more mistakes than usual. Not that I'm implying that there is more than usual, I just hope that there isn't but if that's not the case... well, here's me apologizing in advance. = P  
**_

**_And if you could, help me point them out so I could work on and correct it. _**

**_Edit: For some weird reason, I just realised that my Word has been replacing the word 'genlocks' with 'gunlocks'. Fixed, mostly. And yes, I did upload this chapter earlier, and it was up for around an hour before I took it down, because I decided I could at least do some polishing before uploading. It's not perfect sure, but hey, you all deserve better than some unpolished piece of work._**

**_Read and review if you want to drop some constructive critisims, They can help me improve. Now onward to chapter 6._**

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**9th Justinian, 30 Dragon**

**West Hills**

It had been one of the best mornings I ever had the pleasure of waking up to, seeing the sky bursting with vibrant pink and gold as the sun peeked over the horizon. The thin layer of frost on the ground glistened under the light, a soft bite of chill hung in the air, a close reminder of how south we were.

Hell, it felt like autumn despite being this close to summer.

I had wondered what it would be like, living this far down in the south in the highlands. Personally I never really saw the appeal myself, to be that far from civilization and at constant risk of being the prime target of the Avvars during their near annual winter raids. Never mind the cold. Probably the peace and quiet, living a simple life far away from the troubles of the realm, only needing to worry about mundane matters and far from most of the conflict brought on by nobles. Or the country life in general.

Remote and distant. The perfect place for a retired and pardoned mage who also happened be a renowned figure in the rebellion thirty years back. Wondered how much pull did Maric had with the Chantry if he managed to convince them to live out his life outside of Chantry supervision?

_Well, not really. There's probably a one in the village, with some Templars to watch over him. A life outside the circle, but under supervision?_

Personally, I'll doubt I'll ever understand or relate to it, country life in general, still disliked it even. To me, there was nothing truly beautiful about nature. Sure, it may seem that way when going on a harmless hike or something like that, but after a night spent in nature's loving embrace and it becomes a nightmare.

Everything eventually tasted like dirt no matter how many times I cleaned my mouth, hygiene became a fantasy and I started itching in places I shouldn't be scratching unless I want to be embarrassed. Reminded me of the torturous month on the road to Lothering, except I was more or less travelling alone at that time.

Always have been a city boy, and no amount of breathtaking sunrises would ever change my mind about moving to the country.

"Almost there." I told the Warden when she shot me a glance, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse it clean of dirt, which always seem to get into my mouth every night somehow. I spat it out in the other direction before turning back to her turning back to face her. "Just over the hill."

"That's what you said yesterday before you got us lost and spent nearly the entire day backtracking." She snorted, shooting me a venomous glare as I rubbed my head in shame. Somehow, I ended up leading us down the wrong path, and as consequence we ended up in the backwoods of West Hills, dangerously close to Chasind territory.

Hell, I'm surprised that we didn't get jumped by those barbarians.

Geography and map reading never really had been my strong point.

"I tried, but its a little hard when every damn tree, rock and bush look the same."

"Of course." She muttered dryly. A human being unable to relate to nature wasn't surprising to her considering what her kind thinks of ours.

After a quick meal and packing up of our camp, we returned to the road, hiking up the trek leading to the remote village, occasionally pausing as I stopped to check and double check that we were heading the right way. The last time it happened, the Warden was furious. If I ended up leading everyone down the wrong path again she'll probably gorge out my eyeballs this time round.

"You look stressed." Leliana started, looking at me. "Why? Your journey is about to end."

"You make it sound like I'm going to die." I said.

"Did I? Well, rest assured that wasn't my intention." Her eyes flickered to me briefly before going back to the road, the barest of a smile tugging at her lips. "Still, you look worried."

Because there's darkspawn in Honnleath. "I hate the south." I muttered instead. "Barbarians and all, though it's more of darkspawn these days. And its colder, less civilized and brutish."

_Plus the accents. Nearly everyone spoke with a west country, or cockney accent, which makes me stand out even more aside from the fact that I'm Asian._

"You nervous that barbarians would swoop down on us?"

I resisted the urge to quote Alistair. "And make charms out of our bones. Hopefully they kill us first."

"I do believe they have more pressing issues to worry about rather than some transgressors, no?" She smiled, a reassuring one. I wasn't really sure if it did work that much. "Besides, we aren't exactly close to the fringes of civilization, yet anyway."

"This is Ferelden. We are the fringes of civilization."

She let out a small laugh. "Why, you sound almost Orlesian when you say that."

"Says the Orlesian herself."

We started seeing huts. Lone solitary huts of woodcutters, herbalists and gatherers who lived a little distant from their community, here and there. On the path. Doors were smashed wide open or into splinters, its interiors wrecked, shelves broken, visible bloodstains dragged in the dirt. I didn't had the courage to check what's inside, but Alistair did. He walked into one of them with the Warden. When he came out, his sword was stained a dark crimson, while the Warden emerged, looking pale and shaken.

The path itself, what life, nature that ran alongside the road, was dead, barren or dying. What trees and ferns that used to brighten up the path leading to the village were dry and wizened. Silence reigned as we passed, passing what death and destruction left behind.

_I'm not seeing any bodies. Where are all the bodies?_

Then, in the distance, smokes. A large pillars of black, each of varying sizes, rose into the sky, where they broke apart and dissipated before they could reach the clouds.

I gulped. "Fuck."

Honnleath.

"Elgar'nan... halani ma..." The elf trailed off. "You sure?"

I didn't need to double check the map, looking over at the Warden with my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed, a cold bead running down my neck. "I'm sure."

Cold tendrils of fear and uncertainty wrapped themselves around my heart, crushing it in a chilling grip despite my efforts to steel my courage, trying to mentally prepare myself for the fight to come. This wouldn't be like that small skirmish by the Imperial Highway. There would be more. How much more? I hadn't got a clue, but I knew there would be more, and it'll be complicated by the urban environment of the village.

I found myself shivering involuntarily. _How exactly does one prepare for something like this? _

"Come on." The Warden urged, not even a quiver in her voice, eyes distant as she trudged forward, growling. "I didn't come all this way just to be turned back by some darkspawn." I hesitated, then followed, ignoring the conflict raging within me. _I should be fine if I let the two Wardens handle most of the fighting._

Morrigan looked over at me. "You seem awfully fine with heading straight into a village potentially infested with darkspawn."

I took a deep breath to steel my confidence. Didn't help as much as I hoped it would. "I didn't come this far south just for my efforts to be foiled by some darkspawn." I growled, pulling my horse along. It wasn't a lie, not exactly, but it wasn't the truth either. "We do need to find a safe place to hide him though, he's not a warhorse."

Snickers snuffled in what could be perceived as agreement, accompanied by a bark from the mabari. Both animals seemed to be getting together awfully well since that night at the Crossroads.

"We'll leave him outside the village with Arla." The Warden dismissed offhandedly, not slowing down as she marched towards the smoke. The mabari whined, not happy that it would be left behind and having no shame in letting its displeasure be known. "Oh it's just for a while you big baby." A more persistent whine.

"Any plans?" Alistair jogged up beside her and asked while I readied up my crossbow.

"Find darkspawn, kill darkspawn, get golem."

"Ingenious and foolproof. Perfect." He delivered with perfect deadpan. I could almost feel Sten expressing his disapproval at her lack of tactical expertise.

It took us several more minutes of traversing through the miniature valley between the many hills the West Hills were famous for before we crested a hill that gave us a perfect view of the burning village.

I gulped. Something within me withered as I stared, the solemnity of looking at what could be the unburied graves of who knows how many sinking in.

Honnleath was blazing, an utter ruin. The stone path that led to the village was painted in crimson, the gateway half collapsed, partially obstructing the road. The watchtower, once used to lookout and as advance warning for barbarian raiders, now a ruin of its former self, its top half missing, bellowing smoke as it burned.

Every building was at least half burned down, some were just skeletons of their former self. A putrid stink accompanied by dry ashes and blood assaulted my nose when the wind blew our way from the direction of the village. I didn't like it. Not at all.

We stopped briefly so we could unload everything nonessential, things that would weigh us down pointlessly when it came to a fight, leaving them at the side of the road with the horse. Doubt anyone would be around to steal it, but in the event anyone tried to, well, they'll have to deal with a mabari.

We approached, cautious, me trying my best not to look too nervous as I maintained a death grip on my crossbow. Not a soul welcomed us, friendly or otherwise. Blood soaked the ground beneath our feet, the still burning buildings seem to be yawning, like a dying beast on its last throes.

The first dead we came across was a kid in simple leathers, a broken, bloodstained bow clutched tightly in his cold fingers. He was slumped against a ruined farmstead, pinned to it by a rusty sword thrust through his gut, beside a similarly dead cow and two chickens, terror etched on his face.

The second wasn't far, flayed out face down on the dirt, now blood covered path that led to the village, missing an arm. It was a few steps away, a heavily dented buckler still strapped to it.

_Well, village put up some resistance it seems. _I grimly noted, comparing the sight to what I remember from the game. _Doubt it saved them. Villages weren't known for being defensible, or having a sizable garrison to mount and effective defense._

"Darkspawn." Alistair announced, raising his shield up slightly as he raised a clenched fist, sword held tightly between his fingers, stopping us. A moment later, a genlock clambered atop a half collapsed roof, looking around at the destruction it had sown with its brethren before seeing us.

A short pause reigned as both sides stared at one another in near awkward silence, broken up by the cackling of flames and the occasional household collapsing. Then its straightened, head raised, mouth open as it screamed a warning to alert the rest, or tried to. An arrow pierced through its neck as it did, and all that came out was a choked gasp, then it fell off the roof, twitched, and laid still.

Silence, before the Warden took the first step, continuing her way into the village, undeterred. The rest of us followed.

More dead, villagers this time as we entered the village proper. Most had looks of surprise and shock still stuck on their faces, as if they were interrupted in their normalcy by a sudden and vicious raid that caught everyone off guard. A few had tried, and failed, to fight back, armed with nothing more than the tool that happened to be within reach. Hatchets, pitchforks, hunting spears...

It made no difference, they were slaughtered along with the rest of the village. Amongst the dead was the odd man, better armored than the rest of the villages, the West Hills coat of arms displayed across their chestplates. The Arl's men, to provide extra security to remote villages and to keep the peace most probably.

One of the dead was a Templar, from the local Chantry most probably. He, no, she was missing her head.

The occasional lone darkspawn was quickly, and quietly dispatched by Leliana and her arrows. We pressed on, unchallenged, my confidence surging at the lack of resistance, meekly avoiding the urge to look at the dead, though a sense of unease found root at the pit of my chest the further we walked.

Not that I was trying to jinx us all, but everything was going just too well. If my memory served me right, the darkspawn practically ran out to greet the party. Yet the only thing that greeted us were silence and what they left behind in the wake of their rampage.

The village square seemed to be where the rest of the village tried to make a stand. Hastily formed militias with nothing more than the clothes on their back and armed with whatever tools that could constitute as a weapon, reinforced by the few who actually had martial training of any kind, and armed with actual weapons.

Probably a holding action, delay the darkspawn to give the defenseless a chance to flee.

"Maker's breath." I heard Alistair mutter. Behind the hastily erected barricades that were smashed aside like they were paper, was a sea of dead, a coat of brown painted on the ground, the blood having long since dried. Most of the dead were human, alongside the odd elf that lived in the village. Some of the dead were darkspawn, not enough. Too few.

What dead that wasn't splayed out on the ground were hung up by their necks, or in a few unlucky cases, impaled on spears that were nailed to the ground.

I swallowed audibly, trying to hide my discomfort as much as I could and holding back the urge to haul. "Poor sods didn't stand a chance."

Leliana uttered a soft prayer behind me as I tried to take my eyes off the sight, the faces, the lifeless eyes. Towards the far side of the village square, the dead was mostly the defenseless; mothers, children and the old. A small bundle was held in the hands of-

I bit down on my tongue, tasting blood.

_Fuck me._

"We should burn the bodies." I heard Morrigan say.

"Why, didn't know you care enough to offer funeral rites for the dead Morrigan." I replied caustically, still bitter about the other night where she threatened me.

"I don't." She snorted, giving one of the dead villagers a slight tap with her feet for emphasis. "But having tis many dead here attracts demons and weakens the Veil. Unless we want to end up dealing with _both _darkspawn and demons, we should burn the dead."

The Warden kept her eyes straight, focused as she approached the stone construct that stood in the center of the square, looking a little awestruck. "Creators… is that...?"

I gave a small nod, then realizing that she couldn't see me do that since I'm behind her. "Yeah. That's the golem." I looked around uneasily. "Is there any darkspawn around?"

"I don't sense any, Alistair?"

The ex-Templar paused, eyes narrowed as he tried to concentrate. "No." he said after a while, though he remained tense. "But something doesn't feel right. I sense… I don't know, something."

"Something?" The Warden asked. "What something?"

"Any specifics?" I added, breath hitching as my grip tightened on my crossbow as I found myself looking into the unmoving and empty face of another Templar, a man, one only a few years older than me. His weapon was nowhere to be found, while his shield laid beside him, with only a few dents on its edges, the Templar enchantments on it dim and barely noticeable. The flaming sword of Andraste adorned on it looking wrapped, like it had been subjected to high temperatures, causing the steel to slag and melt slightly.

_What in the hell?_

"It feels like something, or someone, is using…"

I looked back at the destroyed barricade. Some of it was charred, pieces of it scattered far from the where it was erected. Someone, or something, smashed it with great force most probably, but that didn't explain the charring unless…

Alistair's eyes snapped wide open in alarm, a single word slipped from his lips. "Magic."

Leliana's eyes snapped to the rooftops, and before I could even wonder what she was trying to look for, she pivoted, an arrow already nocked and drawn, and let loose.

The arrow punched into the air, zipping towards one of the far roofs and neatly struck a figure trying to hide behind it. I barely noticed its presence until I saw it sway, then slump forward, rolling off the blackened thatched roof and dropping onto the ground. A staff rolled free from his lifeless fingers.

_Oh fuck…_

Then, they were there. Genlocks. The once empty roofs now lined with genlock archers, just as surprised as we were now that they materialized before our eyes on the other side of the square.

_Illusion spell. Oh FUCK!_

"Ambush! Back!"

I didn't see who barked that, Alistair most probably, but I quickly snapped into motion and scurried backwards, nearly tripping over the headless body of the Templar as I did. Morrigan took a step forth, arcane energies gathering between her fingers as her staff glowed with barely contained magic.

I quickly scrambled behind her as the genlocks let loose a volley at us. Guttural roars sounded from all around the village as they signaled that the ambush had been sprung, a rising snarl from dozens of throats that echoed around the square. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" I found myself yelling in panic, at how everything suddenly went off the rails and how this part wasn't in the game.

I leapt to cover the final paces between me and Morrigan, landing behind her just as a barrier snapped in place, arrows clattering and breaking against the wall of shimmering energies. Bright blue ripples expanded from each hit, until it all stopped, the genlocks frantically moving to ready up their next shots while the house below them burst into activity.

Morrigan dropped the barrier.

A second later, a fireball crashed into the building on the right, a Chantry I realized, just as the first shrieks burst through its twin doors. It went sailing between the doors, roars of pain from the shrieks as they got burned as it passed them.

The Chantry came apart in a fiery explosion, along with the archer contingent on its roof. Burning debris rained down on the darkspawn on the second roof, while the unlucky few found themselves cut down by a whirlwind of splinters. Bodies fell as they crumpled off the roof, accompanied by screams of bestial rage from the rest.

Despite their losses, they still tried to salvage their ambush, individual hurlocks emerging from behind ruins and advanced, charging in a disorganized, mob while the surviving genlocks quickly let loose a second volley.

Again, like before, the arrows broke themselves on a barrier before they could even reach us. Once it was dropped, the witch quickly fired off a bolt of lightning, striking the leading darkspawn and melting a hole in its chest before it arched off to the ones closest to it. Then, she dropped to her knees, exhausted.

Leliana and I fired in near unison. Another archer crumpled, an arrow having found its mark below its left eye while the hurlock I had been aiming for screamed, dropping its sword from its now nerveless hand, looking down at the steel bolt lodged in its arm above the elbow.

Frantically reloading my crossbow, I brought it up once more. Leliana had already fired her second arrow, and was now on her third just as I found my target and let loose. Another archer fell, arrow through its cheeks, while my target was knocked off its feet, the bolt having punched through its chestplate. Wounded but undeterred, it got back on its feet.

_Fucking, die!_ I cocked up the crossbow, nearly letting the bolt slip through my fingers in my haste as I readied the next shot. At the front, steel clashed against steel as the frontline fighters engaged the hurlocks that got close.

My third shot caught a spear wielding Hurlock in the neck, finally dropping one for good.

A bestial roar caused me to spin around, and found myself facing down two of the beasts. In blind panic, I pointed my crossbow in their direction and fired. Guided by some divine luck, it nailed the lead darkspawn in the hip, dropping the monster on its knees and temporarily incapacitating it.

The second roared a war cry from its lipless mouth and leapt towards me, sword held high above its head. Its rancid breath washed over my nose, causing me to cry out in fear and disgust as I frantically blocked with my crossbow, the stock splintering as the blow connected, causing me to stagger back, pain running down the length of my arm.

_Shit! Fuck! _

Backing away, I ended up tripping over one of the dead villagers, falling onto my back as the hurlock moved to finish me, blade raised to hack down on my head.

_Fuck!_

I rolled to the side, barely avoiding the strike and instead feeling it chop into the corpse below me as I pushed myself away and on my feet, crossbow raised to block its next swing. This time the bowstring, along with the bow snapped, then another, nearly cutting the weapon into half. I tossed the wreck at the creature, buying me barely more than a second to quickly reach back for my sword as it advanced, lips curled in a grotesque smile.

A feral beast, shaped like a human, twisted and tainted, scarred and festering skin stretched alongside the creature's movements as it jumped in for the attack. Up close, angry, snarling in my face, it looked ten times scarier.

Our swords rang together, once, twice, the darkspawn coming hard at me, powerful swings that made the air whistle every time it barely nicked my head. I checked its blows, ducking and backing away. Blood pounded into my ears as I struggled with the creature, my arms crying out in protest when a particularly strong impact pushed me back, leaving behind small skid marks as I slid back.

A poorly timed parry nearly ended me, the darkspawn's blade flashed downwards as it nearly bit into my shoulder, instead slicing off my shoulder pads. I tried not to think about how close that was to ending my life. A savage slash bashed aside as I sidestepped, sword nicking at the heels of the creature as it crashed past me.

It roared, stumbling as I drew blood below the back of its knee. Seeing it bleed, my confidence bolstered, and faltered when I realized that the small wound didn't seem to affect it in any way though, instead enraged it.

_Strong, powerful swings. Lots of strength behind them means slower recovery time. Unnatural strength and endurance, aggressive, but poor defense!_

It charged, screaming, sword held high up in the air.I stepped to the right and let the darkspawn's sword slide down the length on my blade until it ran out and stumbled forward, then caught it with a backhanded swing across the torso.

The monster roared as I stepped away, a dark gash at where my longsword bit through armor and into flesh. I stepped around it before it could recover, bringing my sword down for a low thrust, and rammed it straight into its chest right as it turned to face me.

I'm the last thing the creature ever laid its twisted eyes on.

The sword punched through its chestplate. I felt it slide into its chest, skin, flesh and bone parting and giving way to cold sharp steel until it emerged from its back. The darkspawn stared at me, a defiant snarl chiseled on its face and it weakly snapped its teeth at me. I pulled my sword out, snarling back and kicking it into the ground.

That felt long, but in reality I doubt more than ten seconds had elapsed.

I stomped over to the incapacitated darkspawn, still struggling to get on its feet as it ripped my bolt out of its flesh. It swung its sword at me when it saw me approach. I returned the gesture.

It wasn't a decapitation, not even close. The swing was a little too high and ended up cleaving its face open instead of biting into its neck. The creature slumped back, dead.

Still caught in the heat of the moment, I moved to the front, seeing Alistair buried his sword into the gut of a darkspawn. Nearby, the Warden ducked, a daggers in reverse grip as she neatly severed the tendons in a hurlock's thigh, bringing it down onto its knees. Without even turning to look, she had reached back and slit its throat open, ending its existence.

Sten was fast, seemingly unweighted by the heavy armor and sword he had, twisting and turning so the blows would glance off his armor while simultaneously separating a hurlock's legs from its knees in one, brutal swing. The second found its intestines pouring out from its torso while the third collapsed, missing a head.

I met a hurlock's charge head on, determination burned into my eyes, and was quickly taught what a fool I am when it easily bowled me over. Darkspawn in general, were much stronger than average humans. Clumsily rolling back onto my feet, I raised my sword just in time to deflect a blow aimed at separating my head from my shoulders.

Our blades locked in a test of strength that puts me badly on the losing end, me gritting my teeth in exertion as I tried to find a way to break it and avoiding its snapping teeth as it slowly overpowered me and pushed me on my knees. Then it went limp, an arrow having found its mark in its neck, the sudden lack of opposing force led me to topple forward with a surprised grunt.

Getting up, I finished the creature off, reminding myself to thank Leliana later.

Nearby, Alistair found himself being teamed up by a couple of the darkspawn, and while he didn't seem like he needed any help, I decided to speed up the process.

Taking advantage of the fact that none of the hurlocks had noticed me yet, I quickly thrust my blade through the back of one of the creatures. The dark, stained tip of my sword erupted from its front as the other two reeled in surprise, allowing Alistair to capitalize on his advantage.

In one fluid motion, with the grace of a dancer, he stabbed one through the eye, shield raised to stop a blow from the other darkspawn. Without stopping for a beat, he extracted the gore covered blade from the bloody socket, dropping low and sword darting out into the chest of the second darkspawn.

I'm almost jealous at how easy he made it look.

The ambush falling apart and having lost their momentum, the tides turned as the darkspawn found themselves on the defensive. I found myself moving to the wrecked Chantry, finishing off the shrieks wounded from the fireball earlier. Some crawled, or tried to crawl out from beneath the wreck with various degrees of success.

One of them dropped, an arrow through its eye.

I made my way towards a shriek that managed to pull itself free, its knee horribly twisted, stumbling forward and collapsed after barely more than two steps. It clawed at the ground, screeching angrily at me with hate filled eyes.

Not seeing much of a threat in it, I turned to deal with a surviving genlock archer, who leapt at me, a dagger held in a reverse grip. I ended its ambitions of killing me by stabbing it through the neck before it even got close to use its weapon before turning back to the shriek.

Somehow, miraculously, it found its way back on its feet, until I raised my sword over my shoulder to deliver a vicious blow.

The shriek crumpled, its head rolling a short distance away, tainted blood gushing out of its now headless stump. Seeing the head roll away brought about a sense of grim satisfaction, much to my own disturbance.

_Bloody assho-_

An unearthly roared rumbled through the village, causing some of the buildings to shake. One of them exploded outwards, as if something burst out from within, sending debris in the air and raining down on us.

One of them, a large piece of stone, crushed the genlock beneath it.

I blinked.

A large creature lumbered into the village square, easily ten feet, or three meters tall. Pale purple molted skin, thick limbs and the pair of horns on its head, seemingly made of pure muscle…

"…shit." Was all I could mouth out, staring up at the beast in horror. _Ogre_.

My blood chilled when I saw it fix its eyes in my general direction. It opened its gaping maw, displaying its razor sharp incisors, then roared.

Both Wardens immediately moved to meet its challenge, only to be ignored as the giant simply ran past them and straight at me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!" I bolted off in the opposite direction. _There weren't supposed be any ogres in Honnleath!_

I scrambled back to where Leliana and Morrigan were, the latter now back on her feet and some color returned to her skin, firing off arrows and spells at the charging behemoth respectively then rolled out of its way. Lacking the similar grace they possessed, I clumsily leapt to the side, sliding across the ground painfully when I landed while the monster barreled past me.

It crashed into one of the buildings, bringing what's left on it down on the ogre and burying it, a cloud of dust shrouding the area.

I pushed myself up on my feet, picking up my sword. "Is it dead?"

I got my answer when a lumbering giant materialized from the dust cloud, no worse for wear, eyes fixed on the closest person in its proximity: me.

It roared, taking giant steps towards me.

"Fuck!" I backpedaled, then ducked from its large, but surprisingly fast hands as it swung at me. It then tried to ground me into paste, slamming its fists into the ground and barely missing me as I fell backwards onto my ass, coughing from the minor dust cloud it threw up.

I saw an opening, its chest wide open, a perfect chance to end it. And in a moment of false bravado, fueled by adrenaline and fear, I went for it, sword extended like a spear intending to ram it through its heart… And I suddenly found myself lifted off the ground, the thing having plucked me up in one of its gargantuan, purplish hands. "Shiiiiiit!"

"Put me down! Put me down!" It held me on level with its head, looking at me with something almost akin to morbid curiosity as I twisted around, trying to free myself. I hacked weakly away at its forearm, trying to get it to loosen its grip even as I fought to maintain a grip on my sword. The tightening of its fingers caused my fingers to go limp, and the sword slipped from my grip while I focused more on catching my breath, gasping. Could've sworn that a few of my ribs had cracked under the pressure.

Vision darkened. Couldn't breath.

Fuck.

Then I could breathe again, the grip loosened. I looked up and found it glancing at the arrow stuck in its jaw with annoyance, right as another dug into its neck. Not deep enough to cause a serious wound, but enough to annoy it. Then a large slab of brick was hurled at its head, shattering on impact and causing the ogre to flinch and flail about slightly, all the while holding me in its hand.

I screamed, from both the adrenaline and terror as I found myself shaken with every move it made. It lifted me high up above its head and started dangling me by the leg, holding me before its open mouth. _Oh SHIT!_

"No, no no no no no! Wait!" I started screaming louder, staring down into the maw of the abyss, pitch darkness and putrid breath greeted me before I forced my eyes shut. It felt like I was staring into the jaws of death, literally. "Fuck!"

It let go, and I felt myself drop. "Fuuuuuck!" I closed my eyes. _Not like-_

Stars erupted across my vision as I landed on hard, solid surface, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs as I gasped for breath, surprised. _I'm still alive?_

Blindly grasping about, I picked up my sword and rolled onto my sides, eyes wide.

The ogre, seconds ago about to make me into a meal, was now on its knees, Sten's claymore buried deep in the back of the joint. It waved its hands about weakly, trying to grasp at Warden who's circling around it until she climbed up onto its back and buried her daggers into it.

A roar of pain and anger, one returned by Alistair who stepped forward, ducking beneath its clumsy attempts to stop him and whipped his blade across the ogre's neck.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, the monster stilled then slumped forward, gurgling as blood poured from its neck. Alistair jumped back, an unmanly cry from his lips as he nearly avoided being crushed, or drenched in blood, by the dying ogre.

I stared at the body, breathing heavily, choking, my head spinning, narrowing vision focused on the ogre. Then held back a moan, clutching my sides. "Fuuuuuck." _I'm going to be feeling that so bad later._

Someone stopped in front of me. "Is it over?" I blurted before looking up to see who it was.

Alistair paused, frowning slightly. "Not really, think there's still one…"

A noise, inhuman shriek really, came from behind. I turned around to see a wounded hurlock being lifted into thin air, a bluish, arcing glow around its neck as it was held up by an otherwise invisible force. _Morrigan._ I looked to confirm my doubts, just in time to see her clench her fist.

A loud crack, and the hurlock started to twist, and the shrieking got louder. Limb bent into unnatural angles, armor cracking, eyes caving in. Then finally, its neck snapped.

With an unceremonious flick of her wrist, she sent the broken darkspawn flying into one of the already ruined homestead, the impact causing what's left of the building to collapse.

"That seemed a little unnecessary..." Alistair muttered. "That's the last of them I think, you alright?"

I tried to sigh in relief, but coughed instead, sending a spike of pain up my chest. "Fuck." I swore, clutching my sides. My body's going to be really colorful by tomorrow. "Not even close."

"I know how you feel, first encounters with ogres can be terrifying…"

I tuned out what he was saying, his words becoming white noise while I struggled to collect myself. _Most people don't nearly end up dropped head first into the waiting, hungry mouth of an ogre. _

"I'm fine." I found myself cutting in before he finished, my voice strangely devoid of emotion as I got back on my feet, stumbling slightly.

The Warden came my way, her bloody daggers still in her hands. Alistair turned to her, tossing aside the dirty rag he had been using to clean his sword. "We got lucky," he said.

"What do you mean? We took them." She barely took her eyes off me, sparing a slight glance at Alistair, ignoring the small cut that grazed her arm.

"As stupid as it sounds, because I myself can hardly believe it because it sounds almost as likely as talking, flying dogs, for a darkspawn orchestrated ambush, that was quite well thought out. Using emissaries to conceal themselves, and their taint from Wardens, that's a first. Or it could be because this was a Blight, and we are not dealing with scattered, disorganized bands of the past but either way, yes, we got very lucky." He shrugged, an awkward smile across his lips. "But, they didn't account for me being a Templar, well, ex-Templar initiate really but you get the idea."

"Are they supposed to be this organized? In the past? Blights?"

Alistair struggled for an answer. "Well…" Then much softer, under his breath. "Never thought I'll regret not reading up on history when someone told me to."

I started towards the center of the square, to Shale, swearing under my breath as I found myself moving with an awkward gait, arm clutched at my side. _Fucking ogre._ A brief stab of panic as I fished out the golem rod, wondering if it had been damaged until I realized it didn't matter. The rod was already damaged in the first place anyway.

Heard someone step up behind me as I approached Shale, rod in hand. Warden probably, wanting to see her new toy. Well, she'll be in for a shock when her new toy proved to be less than amusing with its, no, her japes and dry sarcastic humor.

"Well…?" She asked, eyebrow raised in question.

I sighed, standing in front of the golem, holding the rod almost lazily as I raised it slightly._ Lets get this shit over and done with._ "Dulaf…" _Oh shit… _I frowned. "Dulan… no, dugaf?" I dug through my head searching, grasping at the slightest straws of something that I should've known, a small trivial piece of information that seemed to have lost itself within my mind. _Fuck. _"Dulaf..."

The elf started tapping her feet, half in impatience and half in question.

_You got to be fucking kidding me._ "Fuck." My shoulders slumped in dejection.

The Warden said nothing for a while, staring at the golem. "It's… still not moving."

For the first time in two years, I found myself utterly dumbfounded by this sudden turn of events. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

"What?"

"There's a dwarven incarnation that needs to be recited to start it up." I said in a low breath.

"And?"

"Would you believe me if I said I forgot what was the exact words?"

Silence.

Then her eyelids twitched, a vein budged in her temple.

When she spoke again, her voice was in a dangerous, low whisper. "Are you telling me, that we came all the way here," A growl that resonated from the back of her throat. "For _nothing_?"

I'm a little too exhausted to think about the implications of that, so I simply nodded. "Seemed like it." Pivoting, I threw the rod into the distance, crying out in anger, then pain as I dropped to my knees, doubling over and clutching my sides. "Fuck!"

She hissed in anger, eyes aflame. I wondered if she's going to stay true to her word when she warned me back then if this was a waste of time. "May the Dread Wolf take you, because I…"

"Levana," Alistair quickly walked up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and led her away, whispering something into her ear. I turned to Morrigan.

"I don't suppose you could go ask your mother to remind me what the exact words were again?" I asked caustically, struggling back to my feet once more, looking around as I moved on to plan B.

Except… plan B was to find the house that belonged to the mage and head down to the cellars.

A little hard since I didn't know which house belonged to him, probably buried under one of these ruined houses.

Goddamnit.

"No." Came the curt reply from the witch. Just as I thought. _Fuck._

I looked down at one of the dead darkspawn by my feet, the head of the shriek I decapitated. A growl of frustration slipped from my lips as I gave it a kick, sending it tumbling away like a soccer ball.

Months of worry, preparation, and it all came down to nothing because I forgot the damn phrase. Should've just left Ferelden in the first place, instead of bagging up and preparing for a trip south. Should've just left, then at least I would have one person who shared my circumstance to talk to about the old fucking world. Should've just…

_Anna wouldn't gotten stabbed by that fucking elf if we had long left._

Fuck the rod.

I found myself staring at one of the hurlocks I had killed earlier, lost in my mind.

It wasn't the first time I found myself in a life or death situation. I had thought I was screwed when those hired swords came into the inn at Rosden, thought I was going to die when I was being pummeled by a guardsmen of Highever. And when City Elf was trying to kill me. The fear, the rush and the sudden strength surging through me when I thought I looked death in the eye.

I remembered how everything felt more real, more alive, more relevant than I ever had in my life. The thrill of it ambushed me.

All this, I realized, sure wasn't fun, never had been. Not at all. It's always been terrifying, gut wrenching, except for moments where fear had been replaced by extreme focus, everything looked and felt sharp, bright, _intense_.

Every sound, every smell, everything I've seen or felt, vivid and minutely detailed.

That, scared me. All of it, this new development, or realization. What I'm going through, what I had went through, what my mind was experiencing.

"Lee." I looked over at Leliana, her soft voice sounding concerned despite hiding a haunted look behind her eyes. "You well?"

"Something like that." I looked down at one of the villagers, dead, lifeless eyes staring listlessly in the sky, a hand partially raised to reach for the help that never did arrive. _Can't say the same for them._ "You?"

She nodded, eyes distant, a lie that she wasn't even bothering to hide. Probably because this was a harsh note to her that Lothering will soon share Honnleath's fate. I opened my mouth, then shut it the unspoken words of comfort dying at my lips as I bit down on my lower lip. If it were me, I would need, want sometime alone so I could sit down. And think, some quiet to myself. Would she want the same? Or did she prefer someone to talk to her about it? I could never tell.

And people wondered why I mostly kept to myself, or a small circle.

Sitting down, alone in my thoughts sure sounded appealing, despite the fact that my train of thought could lead to unpleasant places at times. But I just wanted some quiet, so I could sort out my thoughts.

I personally had enough for the day. Been shot at and attacked by darkspawn. Seen and looked into the eyes of men long dead, nearly crushed and eaten by a fucking ogre. And I'm far from home, from any friends and family that I've ever known. The novelty of spending time with characters from a video game and worrying about what Flemeth wants was over.

It'll just get me killed. And it's going to be a lonely death.


	7. Elmridge

_**A.N: Sorry about the delay, this chapter gave me quite a bit of a headache. Lost count of how many times I deleted everything and rewrote the chapter. Never before had a chapter burned me out so much like this one.**_

**_But enough of that, here's the next chapter._**

* * *

**~ Lee ~**

**10th Justinian, 30 Dragon**

**West Hills**

The sky above, just moments before a shade of amber and rust was now darkened by the dark clouds that loomed high above me. Strong winds slapped me painfully in face as I raced down the path, bouncing up and down on my horse, fingers tightly wrapped around the reins in a death grip as the animal cantered back to the group.

I've never been much of a horse rider, or a great one. Riding a horse itself was enough of a challenge, anything else aside from a slow trot was a mind boggling concept that both my mind and body would struggle to wrap itself around.

But hey, first time for everything, right?

As for the Warden, she was still irked at me.

She didn't say anything, or utter a word but it's clear that she still dislike me. For obvious good reasons of course. I promised her a golem and didn't deliver after dragging her all the way down to the southern end of the known world. I'm just lucky she didn't make good on her promise to make me regret it if it didn't turn out well, yet.

At least now it wasn't that bad as compared to before, when she was still mad.

In spite of Alistair's insistence that beneath the gruff, unfriendly, unapproachable wall she had put up around herself, she was a totally different person beneath it, though I forgot the exact words he used to describe her. Personally, I hadn't seen anything else aside from her scornful elitism. More specifically, short-tempered, proud, serious, though the first could be attributed to her patriotism to her Dalish ways.

Leliana still looked downcast, having taken in the aftermath of the massacre of the village's inhabitants poorly. Her thoughts were probably still with Lothering, its impending fate, and the lives of those who she got to know during her time there.

My body ached, yet to recover from the ogre's crushing grip when it held me in its hands, tightening its fingers around me. Unbidden memories of that short period of time I spent facing down the ten foot monster shot through my mind, drawing a grimace as I tried to shake it off, flashes of it holding me above its head, dropping me into its open mouth. The razor sharp incisors rising up to meet me as I dropped…

My gut twisted as I pushed those thoughts aside. Dying by the sword was one thing. Sure it sucked and probably hurt like hell, but it sure as hell beats being chewed up like some piece of meat.

As the distance between me and the temporary camp shrunk, I attempted to slow down, yanking hard on the reins. Surprisingly, it worked spectacularly. I didn't just slow down, I managed to bring us to a sudden stop that almost tossed me off the front of the horse. Unsurprisingly the animal reared up and neighed loudly in what sounded like protest. This time I failed to stay on.

I crashed down on my back painfully and hissed as I rolled over. I tried and failed to protect my body with my hands.

Snickers huffed, stamping its front hooves down onto the dirt in what that looked like agitation. It then kicked away at the ground beneath its feet as it shook its head wildly. Unintentionally or intentionally, as I'll never know, a cloud of dust was sent flying right into my face.

"Was that really necessary?" I coughed, nursing the sharp spike of pain that shot up the base of my spine. I had my sword strapped behind me, which made my landing even more painful.

At least I didn't get my foot caught it the stirrups this time. I remembered getting dragged by my foot for around twenty feet after falling off a horse during one of my attempts to learn how to ride one.

Needless to say, it wasn't pleasant.

It then trotted away, tail swinging back and forth wildly and leaving me behind in the dirt. The mabari ran up to it, barking in greeting.

With a pained hiss, I pushed myself on my feet. "Oww." More bruises to contend with, and the ones I got yesterday hadn't disappeared yet. Then I found myself staring at Sten, surprised. Sometimes it was almost too easy to forget that he was with us, given how little he speaks and his tendency to isolate himself from the group.

"Why are you here?" He asked, staring at me.

Naturally dumbfounded, I stared back for a couple seconds before a displeased grunt from the Qunari made me remember that he had just asked me a question. My reply came in a single word; "What?"

"You peddle goods, broken goods and yet you are clearly not a merchant. You carry a sword around, yet you lack the discipline, mentality and decisiveness of a warrior. You ride a mount, yet could barely stay on it."

I kept up my stare, trying to formulate a good answer and failing because those were actually valid points he was making. My mouth involuntarily opened and closed like a goldfish's would. Eventually I just looked down, then back up at the giant, shrugging. "You tell me, because I honestly don't know."

He frowned, clearly in disapproval. "And you lack purpose. Wonderful." He then turned his back on me and walked away, leaving me standing and wondering what in the hell just happened.

Alistair approached me, an amicable smile on his face. "Thought I saw your horse earlier."

"Because he threw me off and trotted off." I grunted, shifting the straps of the scabbard on my back, the tip of the sword thumping gently against my back with the movement. "There's a house further up the road, empty. It looks abandoned."

"Well," He gazed skywards, at the gathering clouds of grey above us. "Guess we won't be spending the night miserable and wet."

Could be worse. I thought dryly as the rest packed up, Leliana kicked some dirt over the remains of the campfire we built to cook our lunch.

"So where did you learn to fight? Didn't know the Collective taught their people to do that." I heard Alistair ask as I went off to get my horse back, tugging at its reins gently as I pulled it away from the yelping mabari. I began tying some saddlebags back onto it, one of which was half rotten and just about ready to fall apart.

My fault really, all this time and equipment maintenance was never really at the top of my 'to do list'. Because of my neglect, everything I had was begining to fall apart.

Along other things that probably needed replacing were my riding gloves, a waterskin, the crossbow, some extra ropes… This whole thing was really starting to put a dent in my finances.

"Gossip travels fast it seems." I muttered. "No, they don't, I just had too much free time and asked someone who knew how to fight to teach me."

"Not a proper trainer I presume?"

"I would have to pay for that, trainers aren't cheap." Plus I wasn't exactly bursting with coin back then.

"If you want to improve, I can help you with that." He added with a hint of seriousness in his tone. "Here's a professional's tip; stick them with the sharp end." His seriousness left him as quickly as it arrived.

"I can feel myself improving already." I deadpanned.

"I'm a great teacher, I know. It's something that comes with being raised by giant slobbering dogs." He added. "Flying ones from Anderfels."

I couldn't help it. I snorted.

We got back on the road, the sky lighting in shades of grey as the burning line of light slowly faded, shadowed by storm clouds. A crow cawed, fluttering between the thin branches as it landed in the foliage beside the path. There was a puffing sound, some cracks as the tiny twigs snapped, pushed aside. Then Morrigan walked out, leaves and sticks hanging off her clothing, what little she wore anyway, a feather sticking out of her hair and looking a little worn.

"No darkspawn anywhere near us for at least a mile." She stated, panting slightly and brushing a leaf off her shoulder as she walked up to us, her normally pale complexion flushed and sleek with sweat. "We're safe, for the time being."

The Warden offered a thankful nod, passing her a waterskin for the witch to hydrate herself, which she accepted after a moment's hesitation, taking small but eager sips from it.

"How sure are you? You could've missed some hiding in the trees." Alistair questioned, doubting.

She lowered the waterskin to snort in derision. "I was raised in the wilds Templar, suffice to say if there were darkspawn hiding in the trees, I would've spotted them long before you ever could." She paused to take another sip, sighing in relief as she handed it back to the Warden. "If 'tis true that I did miss some, that's what Grey Wardens are for, isn't it? Or have you already forgotten how your Warden intuitions work? I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case."

"I know how it works, thank you for reminding me, and I tend to live by the words 'better safe than sorry', ever heard of 'em?"

"Wise words, read that in a book somewhere did you? Hope the small words did not strain you over too much."

That argument spiralled on until the Warden had enough, and told them both to shut up.

Much later we reached the house and secured it for the night, though to be fair it was more of a small estate. Probably one owned by some rich freeholder, leasing out his land to others to work in exchange for half the produce. A rundown windmill stood nearby, similarly abandoned.

Unlike most of the buildings we came across recently, this one was truly abandoned. No smashed doors or holes in its walls aside from a minor collapse in the attic. No bloodstains decorating the interior or cold corpses splayed out at some corner. Its only inhabitants were the odd rat that scurried away as we approached, and bats that flew off in small swarms.

The surrounding fields were overrun with weeds and other kinds of shrubbery, vines crawled and twisted themselves around the house itself, creeping in through windows and cracks in walls.

The whole placed looked as if it had been unoccupied for years, I dimly noted as I gazed upon a cheap, fading painting that had been placed against the wall. My fingers brushed off the layers of dust that coated it. A woman, seated in a chair and dressed in a fine blue overflowing dress that outlined her swelling belly.

Beside her were two smaller figures. The taller one standing beside her, a simple coat of yellow on his shoulders while the shorter was sitting on the ground, knees held against her chest as she leaned against the woman's leg. Her children, I realised, sitting down on an old oak study table.

Unfortunately for me, whoever owned this building in the past had emptied most of their worthy possessions when they abandoned it. Including books, I sadly noted, eyeing the empty bookshelf, cobwebs hanging from its corners as it collected more dust.

Sighing, I stepped out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind me because of the ear piercing noise that it would make thanks to its heavily rusted hinges. Heading back downstairs, I found Sten idly sharpening his blade by the fireplace, the dim lighting casting a faint shadow on the ground that mirrored his actions. Morrigan sat by one of the windows, staring outside.

Footsteps from behind me. "Catch!" I turned, a flash of panic shooting through me when I saw a freaking sword being tossed at me. I squeaked like a girl, ducking to the side. Looking up, I saw Alistair walking towards me, another sword in his hand. "Aw, you didn't catch it."

"What was that about?" I demanded.

"Relax, it's dulled, a waster if you will. Figured I'll see what I can teach you before dinner."

"Oh." I bent down and picked it up, a replicated arming sword from the looks of it.

"Not exactly the bastard sword that you are used to but hey, you have to make do with what you have right?" He said, ignoring the confused look on my face as he motioned for me to follow him outside.

"Bastard… wait, my blade isn't a longsword?"

"Hilt's a little short to be one." He replied with certainty, stopping at a small clearing just outside the manor. Motherfucker! I've been scammed! "Now attack, I want to see what you can do first."

I hesitated, testing the weight and feel of this dulled blade with a few practice swings. It felt awkward. I never really got used to shorter swords, not to mention my general dislike for them. Why did he have these around in the first place? "Really?"

"Unless you happen to know the art of boring your enemies to sleep with hesitation, yes." He smirked, getting down into a guard position.

After another moment's hesitation, I obliged. Dropping down into a stance, I slowly advanced, watching Alistair closely for movement before going in. Unsurprisingly, he easily dodged it, then quickly slammed his shoulder into my body before I could recover for a second try, sending me sprawling. He himself looked surprised at how quickly that lasted.

"Well, you got the grip and footwork right at least." He awkwardly encouraged as I pushed myself back up on my feet with a grunt. "Come on, try again."

Circling the former Templar, I contemplated my next move. He watched me with near silence aside from the occasional shuffling of his feet, patiently waiting. Then I moved, lunging forward with a high cut before quickly turning it into a low swing at the last second. He checked my swing, then parried it.

I counted numerous times where he could've easily disarmed or put me back into the dirt, but held back at doing so. While not necessarily possessing the fluidity and graceful movements of a rogue, in this scenario, he might as well have.

Sidestepping out of the way, he grabbed my sword arm by the wrist, the near iron grip causing my fingers to go numb as the dulled bladed fell from my hand, then my body stilled when I felt him press the edge of his weapon against my neck.

"Dead." He announced, stepping back. He explained for a while what went wrong, how to improve my defences and so on, showing me how it's done then motioning for me to get ready again.

Time carried on in that fashion, and I was told that I had the tendency to swing too early and occasionally, way before my foe stepped in the reach of my sword. I already knew that, which was why I preferred the longsword for its extra reach in the first place, or a bastard sword in my case.

He then brought me through a series of steps and maneuvers, and had me carry them out repeatedly. Each new repetition was at a much faster speed than the previous one. Alistair carried out the movements in unison with me as he led me through them. Towards the end he just stood at the side, going: "Faster, lunge, attack and dodge! Half pirouette, thrust, parry…"

By the time Alistair called for a stop, I was half dead on my feet, my arms stiff and heavy from exhaustion. As soon as I heard that I simply plopped down on my ass and laid back, gasping for breath, limbs nothing more than heavy weights that held me down. Not that I was eager to be back on my feet anytime soon.

I groaned as I pushed my sore muscles to get back on my feet. I headed back into the house, manor, I corrected, passing Sten as I did. I messily wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my forearm as I did. "Enjoyed the show?"

"Unfit, unskilled, untrained, undisciplined and a severe lack of coordination." Came the dry reply. "You still have much to learn if you insist on staying."

Well, guess that's a no.

_**~ 88888 ~**_

We came within sight of a town near dusk, its stone walls looming over in the distance as we approached it. I frowned, they looked almost archaic by normal standards, too simple and old. There were no battlements, floor openings, moats, bastions… nothing. Just a simple wall that provided the defenders a height advantage over their attackers.

Perhaps these would be enough to deter simple barbarian raiding parties, but I really doubt it would hold back the darkspawn for long if they decide to siege it.

To be fair though, the West Hills never really did engage in petty squabbles with its neighbours unlike most of the nobility. It never really had many opportunities to have its defences tested and hence, they never saw the need to improve them.

Poor sods.

There's also the significant lack of refugees. It wasn't very surprising really. Life in the West Hills made the folk here strong and enduring, but also bred stubbornness. Most of the folk wouldn't leave and abandon their homes unless absolutely necessary. A fatal mistake, since that meant folks here only realized their folly when a warband came crashing through their front doors. It did, however, make entering the city much easier for us.

The local town watchmen barely spared us a glance as we walked under the gatehouse after they challenged us to make sure we weren't darkspawn. Well, aside from the usual ones directed at Sten because he's a Qunari. A few were also directed at the Warden and Morrigan because well, Chasind and Dalish weren't exactly common sights either.

Well, Morrigan may not be Chasind but her dressing up like a typical barbarian didn't help with the impressions.

One of the first things we saw as we entered the town proper was the hanging bodies of two dead men on a gibbet right beside the gates. Lovely.

I took the liberty of asking someone what happened. Oddly enough, I didn't find myself bothered at the sight. Hell, I even attended two other public executions while I was in Denerim even, the first time out of sheer curiosity, and the second out of boredom.

"Desertion." Came the reply, pointing at the dead dude on the left. "And that guy for debauchery."

I did a quick double take at that reply? "Debauchery? That an actual crime around these parts?"

"Nye, t'was only because he ploughed the bann's daughter." The man paused. "And 'is wife."

Well damn, that explains it.

"A waste." Sten had said, looking at the deserter. "He's not fit to be an Ashaad but is still perfectly fit and fine to carry out other duties. He could've been put to better use instead of simply ending his life."

That started a small discussion and comparison regarding the ethics of capital punishments between societies. The Warden said that Dalish tended to prefer exile. I resisted the urge to add that it didn't apply to any humans who had the misfortune to bump into them.

After finding an inn and putting our stuff down, I split away from the rest. I was off to replace my equipment, which led to my current predicament.

Some swearing, frowns, sighs and an exasperated look painted across the face of the dwarven blacksmith I went to as he inspected my armor across his workbench. I stood nearby, dressed in some linen tunic and breeches as I waited. "… sodding topsider junk… where you get this piece of shit? It can barely stop a nick from a kitchen knife!"

"Err… isn't that the whole point of light armor?"

"'Tis ridiculous, even for light armor! Which arsefaced twat crafted this? He should've been driven out of business before he got someone killed... Or stop more from being killed!"

When I get back to Denerim, someone's head was going to roll.

More swearing from the dwarf, his accent growing stronger as he got worked up. Funny, I thought all dwarves had American accents, since this little guy here sounded more Scottish, or Welish the more agitated he got. "… could find paper stronger than this!" He frowned at me. "How did this happen?"

"Oh, a little scuffle here and there that comes with the dangers of travelling."

He scoffed. "Looked more like you got yourself a hug from a sodding giant." He went back to the 'armor'. "Me say you are better off getting a whole new set."

Great, more drains on my finances. "Recommendations?"

"Light or medium?"

"What?"

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Do you prefer to be light on your feet, or be more protected?"

Well I tried light armor, and after my one time on the front, I think I prefer to be more protected. Though I'm not really sure how much it would impede my mobility. "I don't really know to be honest..." The dwarf gave me an exasperated look. "Medium?"

"Hmm." He tapped his chin, leading me over to a portion of his shop, where a few sets of armor were up on display. One of the armor stands was bent slightly, which the dwarf quickly corrected with a quick rap with his knuckles. "This one perhaps? Brigandine, with a mail shirt beneath it for extra protection. Would serve you well it will." He paused before muttering. "Much better than that junk you had before anyway."

I looked over it. Most of the mail were hidden beneath the brigandine, which I didn't mind. More protection was always good. Much better looking too, less of an eyesore unlike a simple mail shirt. Those things were ugly, but very practical. And Fereldenish. "Wouldn't it be a little heavy?"

"Well, there's always the coat of plates." He pointed at the stand. "More expensive though, but lighter. Or you could go without the mail, just the brigandine. Or just take a gambeson, that works too. Could also swap the brigandine for a leather vest, that works too. Either way is much better and reliable than that 'boiled leather' you had before."

True, I conceded to his point.

"Helm?"

I spent a second to ponder about the pros and cons of having one before answering. "Sure, why not."

The dwarf went back to behind his counter and took a helmet off a wall where it was hung before tossing it at me. I barely caught it before turning it around to take a look. It wasn't much of something cool looking, just an ordinary helmet shaped almost like a brimmed hat but made of steel, no visor or elaborate curves and shapes that made it look fancy. Simple and practical. The true Ferelden way.

"Try it on, see if it's too big or small."

A second's hesitation, then I placed it on my head.

"Well?"

It didn't constrain my vision too much, nor was it uncomfortably heavy, I thought, nodding in satisfaction as I took it off. "How much? For the armor and helmet?"

"Two gold and ninety two silver pieces."

"Two-" I gaped. "You robbing me dry dwarf?"

"I don't know where you got that piece of crap of yours or how cheap you got it for, but this here is true craftsmanship, not junk! And unlike junk, it ain't cheap."

"That's still overpriced. Two. Excluding my other purchases." I bargained.

"This ain't the bloody market where you argue all morn' over a few bits of half rotted fish." The dwarf crossed his bulky arms across his broad chest, puffing out his chin in indignance. "Go elsewhere if ye think ye can find a better deal then, see if ya'll end up dead in a week. Or just take the bloody gambeson."

I can't bargain for shit…

So my choice was either pick the cheaper one, which could be a little hazardous to my lifespan in the future, or take the much more expensive, but better brigandine. Though watching all my hard earned savings drain down the pipe at such an alarming rate was nothing less than heartbreaking.

This is driving me to bankruptcy… christ almighty

"Fine, I'll take it." I grumbled.

"Pleasure doing business." The dwarf grunted, checking if I gave him the right amount before pocketing it somewhere. "Now this way, have to get your size and have the armor adjusted to fit."

After all that was done, and he told me to come back tomorrow morning to collect it. I asked him about my sword, whether or not if it was 'crap' as well. He stared at me as if I had grown two heads.

"How the bloody sod would I know?" Was his answer.

"Well… aren't you a blacksmith?"

"I'm an armorer, I craft armor, not weapons you bloody lout!"

"There's actually a difference?"

"Yes!"

Oh.

Well. I didn't know that.

"Goodbye and come back tomorrow!" And with that he chased me out of his shop.

There's that I suppose.

Sighing, I sheathed my sword and walked away, off to find a smith so I could get my sword checked out. I could be worrying too much, since the weapon held itself together back in Honnleath instead of breaking apart but hey, for things like these, it always paid to be safe than to be sorry. Especially if sorry meant death.

Much to my relief, aside from the fact that I paid for a bastard sword with the price of a longsword, the weapon was pretty solid, not some shabby piece of crap. However the good news just barely lifted my spirits before I forked over some coin for a new crossbow.

With my newly purchased crossbow slung across my back, sheathed sword clipped to my belt, I decide to go exploring a little. It felt odd to be this armed without my armor, a little naked even, but it wasn't much of a fuss for me to bother myself too much with.

Elmridge wasn't much of an impressive town really, as expected for a backwater Ferelden town this far south. A mix of what seemed to be Nordic-Scandinavian influences in the local architecture which seemed to be the only redeeming quality in this town since almost everything was in an universal, bland grey.

Could've sworn I saw what that looked like a sauna, but it didn't interest me. Never liked saunas myself, always made my head feel faint too quickly, never mind the difficulties I had trying to breath. Hell, people were known to suffocate in them every once in a while.

Instead, I found myself drawn to a familiar figure, glaring down at a stall owner by a stand in the streets. A familiar figure with elven shaped ears, familiar tattoes…

Oh.

OH.

What's she doing here?

Her mabari sat beside her, seemingly oblivious to the argument before him, looking almost bored at the proceedings as it scratched itself behind the ear with its hind paw. The only sign that it was aware of the tension was that it never kept its eyes off the stall owner.

I looked at the weapons the Warden carried openly at the hips, then at the ruckus that was being caused and groaned. Before I even knew it, I walked closer, catching the Warden's attention, the scowl on her face instantly darkening for a brief second when she caught sight of me.

"Weren't you supposed to be with Alistair?" I started before she could say anything. The stall owner shot me a thankful look for taking the heat off him, though his eyes were burning with clear resentment. Not at me, but at the Warden.

"I can take care of myself." She fired back. "No need for a shem to follow me around like some puppy."

Wonderful. Where the hell is he anyway?

"We should get back." I lied. "Streets aren't safe at night."

"I can take care of myself." She scoffed.

"Plus you are causing a scene-"

"And I should care about what a bunch of shems think about me?"

Yes you should. And a little louder please, I don't think everyone heard that. I kept that to myself of course."And preferably before things get violent between Morrigan and Alistair over who's to blame for your disappearance."

"Oh." That finally got to her, the defiant look in her eyes washing away as she came to in realisation, replaced by a small scowl that's almost alike to a pout. "Right, them."

"They're probably arguing right now." I shrugged. "Or rather Morrigan is goading Alistair into one with her usual tact and stuff."

Something crossed the elf's face that made me briefly wonder if she was just going to let that happen and be all casual about it. Then her look smoothened as she turned and started walking away. Her mabari quickly got up on its feet and tagged close behind, tail wagging furiously as it did.

Seeing that we both had the same destination in mind, I ended up following her. She didn't seem to mind me, eyes slightly distant as she moved. Her mutt ran circles around her for a few seconds before realising that it wasn't about to get any behind the ear scratches.

"So what were you doing back there anyway? Aside from antagonizing locals?"

She looked up, her expression slightly suspicious before shrugging. "Just wanted to look around." Her eyes narrowed, quickly darting between the townhouses on both sides of the street. "That shem just got rude didn't like having a knife ear that scares away customers'." She quoted him mockingly.

"Ah." Luckily it didn't end with her making that man spit out through broken teeth. That would be very bad. "So, human towns anything like you've heard so far?"

"Too crowded and filthy. It smells, there's shit at every corner, an ugly shade of grey on every surface, and shems everywhere." She shuddered in disgust, looking up at the townhouses built neatly alongside one another, each at least two floors high and towering over us. "Disturbing is what it is." She scowled, "This many people crammed in one place like penned up livestock, living practically on top of one another."

"I wouldn't know. Looks very normal aside from the ugly architecture and dull colors." The corners of my mouth curved upwards. "But we don't expect outsiders to understand."

That elicited a reaction from her. "Very funny." The look on her face darkened. "Should've broke his nose back there. Shemlen'alas, Fen'Harel na'din…"

I cut off her elvish gibberish before she could continue. "I highly advise against it."

"Why? Afraid I'll break some of your filthy shem rules? Why should I care of what a few shems think of me?"

"Because," I drawled, exasperated. Did Duncan teach her anything about eloquence before forcing her into the human society? Bloody bastard. "You are in a shem town, surrounded by hundreds of our kind, so you should at least-"

"What?" She spat. "Bow and lick the mud off your boots? I'm not going to bend over like those flat-ears you shems kept-"

"No, I meant restraint." I practically hissed the word out. "You are practically a foreigner in the eyes of these people, in their home, and going around shoving your Dalish ways and defiance into everyone else's noses is not the best way to go about conducting yourself."

"And how-"

"Your kind don't like us 'dirty shems' outsiders going around telling you what to do and where to shove it, likewise, we don't like 'dirty barbarian' outsiders going about telling us what to do, where to shove it and how much our way of life is shittier than yours. Feel free to shoot someone in the chest with a bow and hang them up on a tree and see how everyone reacts if you don't believe me."

Her lips curled up in a snarl. "We don't simply hang humans up in trees, we-"

"No, you are right. You don't, instead you put nails in their boots, send them running, count to a hundred then start hunting them like animals, just because they trespassed."

"No we don't!" She snapped.

"I wouldn't know. Some of your kind did rather enthusiastically described to me in detail how that game works, very enlightening I might add."

"You met other Dalish?" The biting tone in her voice died away, replaced with scepticism, eyes narrowed as they dug into mine for answers. "When? Where?"

Oh shit, said too much. I stopped dead on my feet, head hung low for a brief moment as I recomposed myself. "A long while back, Wending Woods far up in the north. Great hosts too, knows how to make outsiders feel welcome in their camp." A wry smile found its way to my lips. "The leather you used to make your boots by the way? Very firm and strong, my jaw can attest to that."

She looked at me suspiciously through narrowed eyes, disbelieving, not ready to take my words seriously. Before she could say anything, I quickly added, "Didn't catch the Keeper's name just in case you want to know. They were too busy making me squirm as much as possible and resisting their impulses to tie me to a tree and leave me for the wolves."

Her mouth opened, more questions at the tip of her tongue ready to be fired at me but I quickly cut her off. "Oh hey, we're back." I pointed at our inn, then quickly picked up my pace. Leliana emerged from its doors right as I neared, looking up at me.

"Oh, vous êtes de retours. Did you see…" The Warden brushed past the both of us without a word. "Never mind."

"Did something happen?" I asked.

Inside, I heard Alistair. "Oh thank the Maker, you're-"

"Yes, sure, I'm fine. Stop tailing me like a kicked puppy- oh not you, I don't mean you."

"And not anytime sooner, I'm almost starting to think the fool might start breaking down. And to think-"

Leliana turned back to me. "Oh, nothing much." I heard arguments behind her, the sounds of several trying to talk all at once until the Warden's voice silenced all others, telling them both that she's too tired to be dealing with whatever problems they had with each other right now and firmly ordering them to shut it. The compliance was nearly instantaneous.

"What did I miss?" I jerked a thumb inside.

"Alistair came back without the Warden, looking all worried, then Morrigan showed up." Came the simple reply as she went back inside, with me close behind.

The air inside the inn was much warmer than the chilly southern evening I left behind, closing the door behind me as I took in what was before me. Both Alistair and Morrigan were here, the former looking sheepish while the latter had her lips pulled together in a tight sneer. The innkeeper stood nearby, looking relieved that she didn't have to order them both out so they could settle their differences rather than inside. Sten was there too, a cool look that seemed to reflect his disapproval of things, a look that might as well had been chiselled there permanently because it's never changes.

Most of the inn patrons were silent too, just looking on. Some were a little disappointed that a fight wouldn't be breaking out. I pushed my way past the crowd and headed upstairs to dump my things before heading back down.

By the time I took a seat at the table with the rest, the inn was noisy again. A large amount of it came from the bar while the rest crowded at a back corner, surrounding a minstrel plucking away at the strings of her lute as she sang.

"The wolf I will follow into the storm. To find your heart, its passion displaced.

By ire ever growing, hardening into stone…"

Leliana, seated beside me, was humming in tune with the song, hands tapping rhythmically onto the table. I docked my fingers, absentmindedly looking about. Sten of course, looked like he didn't fit in to the atmosphere of a bustling inn, easily standing out as he watched what he described to be a 'mass suicide' that was occurring at the bar.

Around us the occasional disdainful, awed look was directed at our table, likely due to the company. A Dalish, a Qunari, a witch and an Orlesian. Plus a foreign, Asian looking me.

A small heated discussion between the Warden and Alistair took place, which I tried to listen in on for a while but quickly lost interest.

A small nudge at my feet brought my gaze down under the table as our stews were served. The mutt was shamelessly begging for scraps, laying down flat on the floor with its legs splayed out, its stubby tail drooping and staring up at me with wide sad puppy like eyes.

"Shoo." I tried to wave him away. "You have your own portion." The massive hound responded by planting its paws on my knees, whining miserably as it worked its puppy eyed charms on me and Leliana, who happened to be seated beside me.

Leliana didn't last long against its charms, quickly dropping a scrap of meat down for the mutt, giggling at how the proud animal quickly moved to grovel at her feet for more.

"You'll spoil him." I pointed out.

"Nonsense, he needs to eat his fill if he's to look big, mean and terrifying."

"Encouraging gluttonous behaviour will make him fat and plump. I would hardly call that terrifying."

The mabari interrupted me with a series of nips at my heels, growling in disagreement.

"Oh whatever, go gorge yourself on whatever you see fit. Not my mutt anyway." A small yip of agreement came from under the table as Leliana fed him with another scrap.

Ignoring the doting happening right by my feet, I discretely spied the neighbouring table, the same one with the ones that were eyeing us from earlier. One of the rugged men had a knife in his hand, offhandedly stabbing back and forth between his fingers at a steady pace. "People are staring." I groused.

"Hmm, oh yes, what about it?"Leliana briefly looked up before her attention was drawn back to the mutt. "Oh qui est le beaut chien?"

"People are staring." I repeated. "At us. Since we sat down."

"Oui, je sais."

"You are not worried?"

"We are an odd group. Drawing stares from others is perfecting normal, non?"

True.

"We are in West Hills. Folk here dislike the hill and swamp folk with a passion. And one of us looks Chasind." I pointed out, referring to Morrigan.

"Oui, so we shouldn't draw any more attention than we already have, non?"

"They might cause trouble."

"There always will be trouble Lee, it can't be helped." She noted, shooting me a reassuring look.

"Yes, but I mean drunks, they-"

"Are volatile?" Leliana finished for me. "I know, and? You want to do something about it?"

"Well…" I found myself at a loss of words.

"If something were to happen, it shouldn't be us to start it, or it'll give us more trouble."

I couldn't argue against that, so I conceded to her point. Never really had been in the centre of attention before, and being the object of focus by the majority of the inn was nerve wrecking. Yet, she was right. Unless they acted first, doing anything would only incur us the wrath of the town watch.

Damn it.

Sten left not long after that, having finished his meal and not keen on being in the proximity of a place where humans get drunk. Morrigan and the Warden followed soon after, the idea of hanging around a heavily social place discomforted them both given their backgrounds. Alistair didn't see any reason to stay after that.

That left me with the bard and the dog, the latter just going from table to table, unleashing its puppy charms on anyone who paid him attention for scraps. Thought those things were supposed to be loyal, never leaving their master's side and all that.

I stuck around because some singer walked in and started performing. Though I find it hard to focus on her voice when my eyes kept going back to the same table from earlier.

"Nervous?" She asked.

"Me? Nah."

"For one that handled himself against darkspawn rather well, you seem to quiver under the shadow of lowly drunks." She playfully joked.

"I pissed myself in the face of darkspawn remember?"

"That was after the ogre showed up, and anyone would find themselves doing something similar."

"You didn't. Morrigan didn't."

"We were at a distance, you were caught in its fist."

"Ugh." I gave up, throwing my hands behind my head in a lazy stretch. "Darkspawn are simple. They want to kill. Drunks are erratic, less predictable- don't beg for more, you had enough!"

A hurtful whine from beneath the table as I felt the mutt snuggle my leg.

"Oh for the love off…" I bent down and placed my near empty bowl on the ground. "There, happy now?"

The rapid excited wagging of its tail told me all I needed to know.

"What are your plans now?" She asked all of a sudden, a question laced with a small, but guarded smile.

"What?"

"You said you'll be around for as long as it takes until the business with the rod is settled." She explained. "That didn't work out, so what are your plans now?"

"In that much of a hurry to chase me away already?" I remarked with mock disappointment. "Ouch."

"Non, juste curieuse."

I sighed, pondering. Because I had no answers for that myself. I had asked myself that question multiple times already, and despite the simplicity of my original plans, I wasn't so sure about it anymore for some unknown reasons lost to me.

"I haven't got a clue." I muttered, more to myself rather than an answer to her question. "What about you? Still sticking around?"

"Yes." She replied without hesitation. I wondered if her conviction was more from her desire to help the people or the Maker.

"So, where are you people going next?"

"No idea, but I heard we'll be stopping by Edgehall at some point."

"Ah, Orzammar then. Unless those two Wardens are trying to cross the Sulcher's Pass into Orlais to seek more reinforcements from their Order." I paused slightly. "Or recruit the Avvars into their cause. Though wouldn't it be much faster to travel on the Imperial Highway?"

"Yes, but the Teryn's men would be watching it closely. Edgehall is undergoing bit of a succession crisis right now, the chaos and instability makes for great cover."

I stopped to think about that. Smart idea really, and more complicated. Picking which roads to travel on certainly wasn't a feature in the game, so that's another thing I had to note. And I wasn't aware that there were more civil wars going on aside from the one started by Loghain.

"Or, the contenders for the arldom decides that one great way to receive support, crown support for their claims, is by handing over the wanted treasonous Wardens over to Loghain." I added, then noting the odd look the bard was giving me. "What?"

"Oh nothing." She looked away. "You seem to know your politics."

I thought back to the other time someone told me that. "Yeah…" I muttered darkly. "I've been told."

"So, you are tagging along with us after all then?"

I paused, hands moving to push my bowl away before I remembered I gave it to the dog. I'm still around with the group, despite the fact that I could've left the second we entered the town, and yet, I still stuck around. "Something like that I guess."

"And what do you hope to get out of it? Fame, riches, glory?"

"If I'm aiming for riches and glory then it's clear that I'm very, very bad at it."

"It's just that you speak and act with the eloquence of a highborn, of someone well educated, yet you do not claim you are a merchant."

"Indeed I'm not. No merchant would ever embark on something like this with such little room for profitability anyway."

"That's what I figured." She said. "Nobility? From a disgraced house perhaps?"

A short bark of laughter slipped from me when that notion had slipped into my head, a mental picture of me in regal robes came up, with titles and riches. "I wish, but no."

A short sigh. "Désolée, I just want to know where you stand, or if there's some other party that has taken an interest in the Blight." Ah, her bard instincts. "Or if you are hiding something."

Well I am. My knowledge of the future.

Funny, why's everyone interrogating me? First, Morrigan, now Leliana. Who's next? Zevran?

At least she's not actually threatening me, unlike the witch.

"Funny words coming from a lay sister who hears voices in her head and is very skilled with a bow." I countered. "Doubt you picked up all that in the Chantry."

She laughed. "Some of us had a colourful history before we pledged ourselves to the Maker you know, not all of us were born in the cloister."

"Seems like I'm not the only one with secrets." I less than subtly hinted.

"A fair point." She conceded, dropping the issue, though not with some reluctance I suspect. Old bard habits I'm guessing. "As long as its not something that would get anyone else hurt."

I had to resist pointing out the irony of her statement.

Instead, I leaned back, a small smile graced my lips as I nodded.

"Count on it."

* * *

**_A billion thanks to Fanfiction Reviewer Man for his brilliance in helping me with this chapter. _**

**_As usual, I never say no to constructive criticism. There is still room for me to improve after all._**


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